


Doppelganger/ She Looks Just Like You

by Jamz24



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bipolar Disorder, Evak - Freeform, Evak Smut, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, M/M, Mania, Mystery, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, doppelgangers, reference to self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamz24/pseuds/Jamz24
Summary: In which Isak is a single dad, and Even is a film director looking for a cute baby for an advert he's shooting.But haven't they met somewhere before, when tragedy struck?"How had it come to this, Isak asked himself. How had he come from being top of his class at Nissen with a med scholarship and a glowing future before him, to being a teenage father?A lonely, single, jobless, gay teenage father?"





	1. Bored Sick

**Author's Note:**

> So ... as Even is a gender-neutral name – I thought I would have fun with that thought. But if you’re horrified at the prospect – do stay with it! Things are not what they seem at first – I promise. 
> 
> If you're not clear on what a doppelganger is, then there's a link in the notes at the bottom of the chapter. Or if you're comfortable finding stuff out bit by bit ... then just read the fic, things will become clearer bit by bit!
> 
> Come chat to me at @everyoung2017 on Twitter if you've got a moment!

Isak was lonely.

And bored. Bored would be a better word for it, so mind-crushingly, bone-achingly bored he could hardly move, so bored that he felt sick to his stomach.

Summoning all his will to move, he stood up, stretching, and winced as he felt the pain shoot down the back of his neck and into his shoulders. He’d been frozen in the same position in the playpark for, like, hours, staring at the same set of rusty swings and the litter-strewn grass like a dope. And yet, when he thought of their empty flat, with its piles of washing up lying dirty in the sink, the unmade bed, the piles of laundry strewn everywhere – he couldn’t find it in himself to go back home just yet.

He looked over to see if she’d done playing in the sandpit. And there she was, curled up next to a small mound of pebbles, deeply asleep. Her yellow shorts were grimy and her tiny T-shirt had a mixture of drool and milk crusted on it. Her chest rose and fell with the small puffs of air emitted from her rosy lips. Sleeping, her little face was relaxed and content, with no trace of the earlier tantrum that had made Isak’s ears ring.

Isak stood and watched her.

How had it come to this, Isak asked himself? How had he come from being top of his class at school with a med scholarship and his entire future before him, to being a teenage father?

A lonely, single, jobless, gay teenage father?

***

**_Then_ **

It had started when Emma had asked him to give her a baby.

“But there are sperm banks for things like that,” Isak had objected at first.

Emma shook her head in that way she had. “Okay, okay Isak, but I don’t want to have a baby from a random stranger. I mean, he could have anything wrong with him! He could be a criminal, or a murderer, or …”

“Well there’s plenty wrong with me,” Isak said weakly, trying to make a joke of it. “You really want to pass my fucked up genes down to the next generation?”

Sana would have a field day with this, Isak thought wryly, as he rolled a joint. All that “homosexuality having a part to play in evolution.” Now his genes were being sought after – no, begged for – for their magic mitochondrial properties. He couldn’t help but smile.

Emma perched on the sofa, watching him anxiously. “So is that a yes, then?”

Isak rolled his eyes, passing her the joint more to shut her up than anything else. “But are you sure you’ve thought this over fully?”

Emma glared at him. “I know that I’m not cut out for university, Isak,” she snapped. “But you don’t have to talk down to me like that.”

Isak raised his hands in a “hey don’t attack me” way. “I’m not, I’m really not. I’m just surprised – I mean, you’re only eighteen, you’re the same age as I am, and –“

Emma bit her lip. “I’ve always wanted to have a family, and well – Even’s twenty two, she’s got a good job, and I just don’t see why we should wait.”

“Remind me how long you guys have been together?” asked Isak, playing for time, though he well knew. Emma had gotten together with Even a few months after they’d broken up, and although Isak hadn’t been exactly surprised – that short hair look, for instance – he was still amazed that he and Emma hadn’t sussed each other out during their three month relationship. All that time he’d secretly been into guys, and she’d secretly been into girls, but they just hadn’t managed to admit it to each other – or themselves.

“It’s a year now, but I know it, Isak, I just know it. People laugh at us, I know they do, but we’re made for each other. We want a family. And we want you to be our donor. Please think about it.”

Maybe it was the being begged – Isak had always been a sucker for people asking for his help – maybe it was a smackdown to Sana’s theory of evolution, or maybe it was Jonas’s powerful new weed currently coursing through his veins, that made him nod. “OK. I’ll consider it.”

***

**_Now_ **

Isak looked over at the child sleeping so peacefully in the sandpit, and felt a sudden surge of anger. How dare she sleep like that, so sweetly, so unconcernedly, while he himself was living an utter fucking nightmare?

He felt so paralyzingly lonely that he was permanently exhausted. There was something about having a child that was so … twenty four seven. You could never, never switch off. No holiday, no sick-pay, no down-time. He’d thought he was tired before, with his course and his part-time job, and his couch-surfing but nothing like this. No one who didn’t have a baby could possibly understand what it was like. Before, he’d had some independence – he’d been able to choose when he did his schoolwork, for instance – but this … This was like having the most demanding job in the world, with rules he didn’t understand and a tiny boss who couldn’t speak his language and screamed at him every time he did anything wrong. And for a perfectionist like Isak, that lack of control was painful.

And the sleep. Oh God, the sleep. He’d always been an insomniac, but this was different. He could be woken any time of the night for a variety of things such as: hunger, thirst, puking, shitting, screaming, wailing, and any variant of puking, shitting and wailing. Stumbling around, numbed and sickened from lack of sleep, he would force his hands to perform whatever tasks were required of them, manage to finally, finally settle her back down, and then he himself would be stiff and awake, staring into the blackness, listening to her huff and grumble in her sleep. And maybe – somewhere toward the grey light of dawn – he’d start to drift towards that blessed rest that he craved, only to be woken after forty minutes by the first scream of the day.

Isak stepped forward and gently picked up the sleeping child, who hung limp as a sandbag from his hands. She was ten months old now, past the crawling stage and into the tottering stage. Emma had had the easy bit, thought Isak bitterly, the bit where she couldn’t actually move around, and at least you knew where she _was_. Now Isak seemed to spend all his time chasing around after her, trying to make sure she didn’t fall down the stairs, eat something she shouldn’t, stick her hands down the toilet, shut her hands in a door – the list of worries was endless. Whoever said that having a child was easy?

“Come on Evelyn,” he muttered into her fluffy blonde hair. “Daddy’s gonna take you home for a nap.”

Evelyn hung over his shoulder, so deeply under that for a second Isak couldn’t feel her breathing. Maybe it had felt like this when – and Isak had to stop thinking then, stop the panicking thoughts that suddenly filled his brain. Don’t think, don’t think, he commanded himself. Just keep walking, put one foot in front of the other and you’ll be fine. Get her home, get her in the cot, get yourself a joint while she naps, it’ll be fine.

It’s all fine.

Apart from you know it’s not.

***

**_Then_ **

“Emma wants you to have a _bab_ y with her?” Jonas asked incredulously, peering up from where he crouched over his smallest cannabis seedlings, tending them with the greatest care.

Isak puffed out his cheeks and rolled his eyes. “No, Jonas, not a baby WITH me. She wants me to be their donor. You know, like a sperm bank.”

Jonas’s bushy brows did a little dance of consternation, as he reset the sprinkler for the seedlings and adjusted the light controls with his usual laid back care. “So, erm, you would produce the sperm for her and, uh, Even to use?”

“Yeah,” said Isak doubtfully. “I guess.”

Jonas wiped his hands clean of earth, and tinkered with the heating dial, clicking thoughtfully to himself as he carefully adjusted the temperature. “You don’t like Even much, do you?”

Isak felt himself start to sweat, as he usually did at any mention of Even. “Well, uh, no, but I … Jonas, can we get the fuck out of here? It’s hot as fuck.”

“It’s OK, we’re done now,” said Jonas, casting a proud and proprietary eye over the five hundred tiny marijuana seedlings that had started to speck the long bags of soil laid out along the living room floor. “I can come back tomorrow now. These little babies are gonna be just fine.”

Isak wiped his face as they emerged into the street. “Dude, your farm is something else.”

Jonas grinned with pride over the tiny weed farm that he himself had built so lovingly. “I owe it all to my uncle Julian, bro. I bet he never thought when he left me the house that I’d make such great use of it.”

Isak glanced at the small house they were leaving. Evening had come quicker than he was used to, and although they’d blocked out the glare of the heat lamps in the front room pretty well, he could see a tiny sliver of light coming from under the shutters. “Just be careful, OK, Jonas?”

Jonas rolled his eyes. “Dude, this is Oslo. Domestic weed farms are ten a penny. This is just my little project. I’m not gonna join an international drug cartel, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried,” Isak lied. “I just don’t want you to get in any trouble.”

“Listen,” said Jonas earnestly. “This is all part of how society is moving these days. Dismantling the capitalist system. I’ve always wanted to be a farmer, and why can’t I can use my products to trade with and support myself? If I need anything, I just barter my buds and you can buy me groceries or new clothes to the equivalent amount. Hell, I can opt out of the money system altogether!”

“Well, okay,” said Isak, half bored and half pacified as he always was by Jonas’s incessant rants on global economics. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

Jonas laughed. “Says the guy who’s about to have a baby with his former girlfriend and her new girlfriend.”

Isak groaned. “I know, I know, it sounds so fucked up.”

“Well it wouldn’t be fucked up if you got on with Even,” said Jonas carefully. “People do it all the time.”

“It’s not that I don’t get on with Even,” said Isak, searching for the words. “I just … There’s something weird about her and I can’t get to the bottom of it.”

Jonas shook his head. “Even seems great to me. Everyone likes her. She’s confident, funny, interesting … Nobody can understand the thing between the two of you. You don’t – don’t fancy her, do you?”

Isak’s eyes popped. “Fancy her? Fucking hell, Jonas, don’t be a twat. I’m as gay as shit, and so is she. It’s just, I’m not sure she’s meant for Emma, that’s all.”

If Jonas found this thought weird, he didn’t comment on it. “Well okay. You guys do what you have to do. Mags has messaged me from the club, he knows the guys on the door, we can get in for free. You in?”

Isak was in.

***

**_Now_ **

He felt sick as soon as he walked through the door. It was the smell, really, of overflowing bins full of nappies, of unwashed laundry, of neglect, and sadness, and disillusionment. It was the smell of lost dreams, of frozen time, of being trapped in a place that you couldn’t escape from, and you only had yourself to blame for being in.

It was the smell of depression, and he kind of knew that, but he didn’t have the energy to do much about it. He only had the energy to find a clean blanket to stretch over the cot’s mattress, lower Evelyn inside, and pull the curtains so the whole room sank into its customary dimness. He was too tired even to find his stash and roll a joint, instead sinking onto the bed next to the cot and staring up at the ceiling.

Evelyn whimpered in her sleep, and automatically Isak reached out and switched on the detuned radio, letting a soft buzz fill the air. The sound would help Evelyn sleep, but it felt to Isak like he was in the roaring depths of a machine that fed off his energy like coal flung into a furnace. Or maybe he himself was the machine, an Isak production line of getting up, cleaning, feeding, shopping, feeding, cleaning, sleeping. And repeat. And repeat. Every day of his life for the next foreseeable future.

How his mother had managed this with all her problems, he did not know. If there was one thing that he realised now is how much he had taken her for granted. How hard it was for her raising a child on her own, with all her demons clustered at her shoulder. The neverending, unrelenting, lonely climb of a single parent.

Growing up with her, he had sworn he would never be a single parent.

Having a child wasn’t something you were meant to do alone.

But he, he was alone.

How had it come to this?

***

**_Then_ **

Isak ended up ejaculating into a small plastic bottle with a mental image of a naked Penetrator Chris in his mind and a syringe in the other hand. It wasn’t weird at all.

Okay it was weird. He tried to think of it as a biology exercise as he shook the last few drops from his cock into the bottle – why was it so damn gluey, he wondered distantly to himself – and depressed the plunger of the syringe to expel any drops of air. Then he placed the needle into the slippery fluid and pulled it back in one smooth movement. A small neat cylinder of potential-baby matter stared back at him. Despite himself he couldn’t repress a small feeling of pride at his handiwork.

_Go you, Doctor Isak._

And now … well now, there wasn’t anything to do, apart from do his jeans up, go out of the bathroom and to Emma’s bedroom, knock on the door, pass her the syringe to do the business and … Mother Nature would take its course.

As he stood outside, he heard the unmistakeable sounds of sex coming from behind the door, a rhythmic thud, Emma’s stifled sounds and Even’s laugh. A deep red flush consumed him. How did girls even have sex together? Whatever it was, Even seemed the absolute master of it, as Emma was constantly all over her, wanting to pull her off to dark corners in parties. 

“Women are more likely to get pregnant if they have an orgasm,” Even had said smugly, running her fingers through Emma’s hair. “Having an orgasm like sucks everything up like a whirlwind, so it all shoots into the place that really counts…”

Isak had put his hands over his ears. “Not listening, not listening.”

“Don’t worry,” Even had winked at him. “I’ll make it hit the spot.”

As soon as he heard a lull in proceedings, Isak knocked on the door uncertainly. It opened a crack, and Emma looked out, face flushed and hair dishevelled. “Thank you, Isak,” she trilled quickly, before shutting the door with a bang in his face.

From behind the door, he heard Emma say “… but you’ve already made me come, so …”

Even’s laugh answered her. “Then I’ll just have to make you come again.”

Isak wheeled round and started stalking down the stairs as quickly as possible to put some distance between him and them before the sex noises started up again.

This wasn’t weird at all.

Was it?

***

**_Now_ **

He broke awake, gasping and sweating, fear screaming at him and clawing its way through his chest. Bolt upright in the darkness the telephone was ringing. Evelyn. She mustn’t wake. He grabbed the phone, cut the call and threw it away.

But the damage was done. Evelyn moaned, then sent up a shrill wail. His heart pumped against his ribs, and tears prickled his eyes.

It’s OK, he murmured, half to Evelyn, half to himself. It’s OK.

The phone pinged. Missed call from Dad, followed quickly by a text.

_Everything all right, Isak?_

Isak ignored it, holding Evelyn unsteadily against his shoulder, while he found a sachet of baby food and heated it with boiling water in a cup. The phone pinged again.

_You know you can always bring Evelyn over. If you need a break._

Isak gritted his teeth. He didn’t want help from his dad. His dad had never been there for him, and now he wasn’t going to start bringing in favours once there was a baby on the scene. This was his shit, this was his fault, and he was going to see it through.

The phone started to buzz again, and Isak rolled his eyes, but it was alright. It was Jonas.

Leaving Evelyn sucking on the sachet, Isak picked up the call, fingers still twitching from his early paranoia. Listening to Jonas’s happy burble on the other end, Isak started to relax.

It was OK.

Not every telephone call brought bad news.

 

***

**_Then_ **

They talked about it first, of course.

Or at least, Even talked about it. A lot. Isak leaned with one hand on his ear and pretended to listen. Even had Emma sitting on her knee, and the two of them kept breaking off to kiss each other _– for fuck’s sake, get a room_ , Isak groaned to himself – but Even just liked the sound of her own voice. She was excited now, repeating herself, her words skipping about and sometimes not making sense, but mainly she was talking about how extended families were the new normal, how all kids in future could expect to have two moms and two dads, and –

Isak jerked awake. “But hang on, you’re not expecting me to be the dad, are you?”

Emma looked back at him, shocked. “But Isak, you –“

“No hang on,” Isak said, a little too sharply. “Emma just said you wanted my sperm. There was no suggestion that I’d actually have to – BE a dad. You guys – listen, you guys are the parents. Once you get pregnant, this is your gig. There is no other possible way. Get me?”

Even raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you scared, Isak?”

Isak glared back, angrily. Even always had the knack of rubbing him up the wrong way. “That wasn’t what I meant!”

_Hang on, I thought I was helping you guys out! It was a favour!_

“Are you worried about something, Isak? Because we’re here to talk about what this all means, and how we can make it work.”

Even was looking at him intently, and he paused and looked back at her. He knew what Jonas had meant about nobody understanding why they didn’t get on. On the face of it, there really was nothing to dislike about his ex-girlfriend’s girlfriend – apart from the fact she was his ex-girlfriend’s girlfriend. Even was tall and athletic, with short light brown hair swept back above her ears and curled into her neck, blue eyes and an easy smile. She dressed casually in tee-shirts, boy’s jeans and trainers, and was sociable and funny. Emma was smitten by her, constantly hanging around Even’s neck to steal kisses and whisper things into her ear, while Even seemed quite happy to hang with Emma’s friends and buy beer and weed for them any time of the day or night. It was probably this last attribute that had earned Jonas and Magnus’s everlasting devotion.

 _Fuck you Jonas,_ Isak thought bitterly _. You were supposed to talk me out of it._

Even’s blue eyes were holding him with amusement. “It’s okay, Isak. If you don’t want to be involved beyond conception, of course you don’t have to be.”

Emma whined a little at this, and Even leaned her long neck over to her. “You’ll be the absolute best mom in the world, I know, baby.”

Emma smiled into her kiss. “I love you, baby.”

Isak looked away. Once they started like this, they could go on for a while.

But Even sighed, swung her long legs off the table and stood up. “I don’t want to push you into anything, Isak,” she said. “Emma and I want a baby, and we’d love you to be its father. But it’s a very important decision, and it’s best we know now what the parameters are.”

Isak stuttered. It felt impossible to say no to Even sometimes.

Emma looked over at Isak and smiled. “So, are we …?”

_No. Not with you._

The thought had taken him by surprise, and Emma looked perturbed at the expression on his face.

“Is everything OK, Isak?”

Isak glanced at Even, who said nothing, blue eyes dancing and a small smile at the corner of her mouth. For a moment he couldn’t think of a single reason to say no.

“Okay, but no one gets to know I’m the father,” Isak said. “This is between us three, and nobody will ever know. Including the baby. Okay?”

Even looked at him for a long while. “Okay,” she said finally. “If that’s what it takes.”

Isak mentally kicked himself.

 

***

**_Now_ **

Evelyn wanted to go on the swings, apart from when Isak put her on there she instantly decided she didn’t and began to scream until Isak took her off again. Then she tripped over when she began to toddle and bumped her head on the gate. Once Isak had calmed her down she rolled over into the sandpit and started to shovel handfuls of sand in her mouth, becoming furiously angry with Isak when he tried to offer her a piece of apple instead. Finally Isak gave up and wandered off to the corner of the park, close enough so that he could still see her angry little form convulsing, but not so close that his ears were being torn to shreds with the sound.

That scream – there was no other words to describe it. It felt like he was being hacked, as if all his systems could no longer function, like a computer overridden by a virus, or a plane under attack by an anti-aircraft system. Of course it was a biological fact, that parents developed this feeling towards their infants when they screamed, it was the flip side of bonding, and in evolutionary terms it meant that caveparents would never leave their kid behind or ignore them if there was something seriously wrong, for instance, but oh God, the physical pain that sound caused. There really was nothing like it, and now, for instance, when Evelyn was so upset that the sound of her own cries made her cry even more, there really was nothing else to do apart from wait it out.

Isak turned away and lit a cigarette. On his budget – which mainly went on baby milk, nappies and root vegetables – he couldn’t afford many, but he kept them for times like these. He took a few drags, breathing deeply, while his eyes wandered over the park bench at the top of the hill and the hedgerow behind it.

The next second his cigarette had fallen from his gaping lips, and his heart was flapping like a terrified pigeon trying to burst out of his chest.

What – the – absolute – fuck.

On top of the bench, a slender figure in jeans and denim jacket was standing, hand shading its eyes against the lowering sun. It seemed to be staring at Isak. There was something strangely, awfully familiar about the graceful movements of its long body, and the way it dressed …

For a second Isak couldn’t believe his eyes. His breathing seemed to pause. The clouds hung silent in the sky. Even Evelyn’s screams couldn’t be heard.

_No. Not you. How?_

Then the figure waved in cheerful greeting, stepped off the bench and out of the shadow. As the afternoon light hit its face, Isak saw a familiar quiff of light hair and a flash of blue eyes.

The next moment there was a roaring in his ears, and the ground that had been shifting unsteadily underneath his feet suddenly reared up and smacked him in the face.

Blackness.


	2. Who's Yo Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which single gay dad Isak meets someone that he's sure he's known before ... just not in this incarnation!
> 
> Or, Even makes Isak omelettes and a mean dish of baby food for his kid

“Hello? Hello? Are you okay?”

The voice was deep, deep and warm, and Isak suddenly realised he was lying stretched out in the sandpit, cradled in the crook of someone’s arm, with gentle fingers moving through his hair. As soon as he realised this, he stiffened.

“Relax,” said the owner of the fingers. “I’m just trying to see if you have any head wounds.”

“I’m sorry,” spluttered Isak as soon as he could speak. “I thought you were my ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend.”

“Wow.” The man laughed in wonder, fingers still searching through his hair. “I understand why you fainted now.”

Isak started to smile back, relaxing his head against the soft movement of the fingers and rolling his cheek into the man’s chest before he remembered and scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I have to find my daughter. She was in the sandpit.”

“You mean this little one?” said the man leaning to the side to show Evelyn curled up playing with her toes on the bench.

Isak leapt up with a fierce gasp, and grasped Evelyn protectively to him. Had this man touched her while he’d been asleep?

“Don’t worry,” said the man, sounding almost shocked. “I saw you fall, and she was screaming, so I picked her up and let her lie on you. It seemed to calm her down.”

Isak bit his lip. “Thanks,” he said shortly.

He summoned all his courage and looked up at the man, feeling his stomach dip again as he took in the light brown hair, the long athletic build, the slender jawline and cheekbones, even the goddamn ears. A face so beautiful, and so familiar. Jesus.

No. It couldn’t be possible.

The man looked at him searchingly, blue eyes full of concern.

“Can I ring someone for you? Maybe … your baby’s mother?”

Isak shook his head vigorously. “No, she’s … not around. It’s just us now,” he clarified, and the man bit his lip in sympathy. “So you’re on your own? That’s a tough gig.”

“Yeah,” said Isak bitterly, and meant it. Suddenly a wave of loneliness surged through his stomach, a wave that he hadn’t been able to suppress since he felt the man’s gentle fingers in his hair, the wish to touch and be touched, hold and held. Despite himself tears pricked at his eyes and stung his nose. Furiously he scrubbed them away. _You can’t do this,_ he told himself. _One touch from a pretty man and you’re a puddle. Get your shit together._

The man put his hand on Isak’s shoulder and Isak tried not to flinch at the touch. “You want me to help you guys home? My girlfriend’s taken the car, but I can ring her and get her to drive over?”

Isak shook his head. All he wanted was to get out of the stranger’s proximity, and take Evelyn home for dinner. Between five and seven was the witching hour – all parents called it that – and she’d be whiny and even more unmanageable than usual until she’d eaten and had her bath. Then, and only then, would she be sleepy and cuddly, and … it was Isak’s favourite part of the whole day. A part that had to be paid for by all the shit that came before.

“I’m okay, I just – It’s the heat, I guess.”

“All right, as long as you’re sure.” The man looked at Isak consideringly, and Isak tried not to look at him too hard – really, it was uncanny, the way his hair curled around his ears, and his lips – _No, stop it._

“I can walk, it’s fine,” he muttered, lurching to his feet and dragging Evelyn and the baby bag off with him. He felt the stranger’s eyes on him as he made his unsteady way to the park gate, his voice floating behind him.

“Stay safe, okay?”

 

***

**Then**

Isak’s orgasm hit him hard, and he shuddered out his release into the small bottle that he held between his thighs. After six monthly attempts, his aim was now pretty much perfect. He blinked away the image of Jonas’s dusky body straddling him that had brought him to the brink, syringed up the mess in the tube, and made his way to the bedroom, screwing his eyes up in preparation for the onslaught of sex noises from within that he was pretty much used to by now.

But the door opened even before he knocked, and Even stood in the doorway. Her short hair was tumbled over her ears, and she wore a loose-fitting vest that hung down over her thighs. Isak wasn’t sure if she was wearing anything else, because –

He looked away quickly and Even grinned. “It’s OK, Isak, I don’t bite.”

At a loss for anything to say, Isak mechanically handed over the syringe and Even took it. Their fingers touched, and Isak jumped slightly.

“I’d just like to say, Isak, thank you for doing this. For us.”

Isak shrugged, looking down at the ground. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.

“Do you know how … how much longer we’ll need to…”

“It’s taking a bit longer than we expected,” said Even, surprisingly cheerfully, “so we’re gonna try something different today.”

“Okay,” said Isak, unclear as to Even’s meaning, but unwilling to ask her any details of her and Emma’s sex life. “Well, listen, if you want to try another donor, that’s cool, I mean I did get checked out and everything seemed to be going OK, but –“

“We’re not going to give up,” said Even thoughtfully. “You’re the one we chose, Emma and I, we’re not going to throw in the towel just yet.”

“Babe?” Emma’s drowsy voice came from inside the bedroom. “Come back to bed, baby.”

Even’s smile followed him down the corridor. “Thanks Isak. For everything.”

 

***

Isak was holding Evelyn in the outdoor swimming pool. It was a beautiful day, and sunlight bounced off the water and flickered across her face. Swimming with Evelyn was pretty much Isak’s favourite thing – he wasn’t much of a swimmer, but he was well able to bounce around in the shallow end with her hanging on his back and giggling. Evelyn was a fantastic water-baby, she was able to put her face in the water and kick, and wasn’t scared of diving under. Isak wished he’d been introduced to swimming this early.

A shadow fell across him, and he glanced up from habit, before his heart missed a beat and almost stilled. No. It couldn’t be.

But it was. The man from the park was standing on the side, idly peeling his T-shirt off. Isak glanced away, then immediately looked back, entranced. His body was long and slender, and his skin tanned a light gold. When he bent down to take off his shorts, Isak blushed before he realised the stranger was wearing swimming shorts underneath – albeit quite a short, tight pair of shorts. He watched as the man turned and stretched, taking in a slender, delicate torso and lightly defined shoulders, before he dived lithely into the pool.

“Ok, time to go sweetheart,” he said to Evelyn with reflex promptness. “Daddy’s going to make us some lunch.”

Evelyn screamed in protest, and Isak had just started to wade, waterlogged, to the pool stairs, when the water suddenly boiled around them, and the man shot straight up in front of them like an attacking shark. Isak jumped, but Evelyn let out a high-pitched giggle as the man let out his breath and smoothed his wet hair out of his eyes. The stranger recognised them instantly, and his face broke into a wide, delighted smile that knocked the breath out of Isak.

Despite his flustered annoyance, Isak couldn’t help staring. He had never met a man that looked that beautiful. Every feature was perfectly sculpted, from his long eyelashes to his slender neck. Water was dripping down his face, and with his hair flat and dark against his scalp, he looked younger, his eyes huge and blue, almost like a girl’s, almost like –  

His lips were full and smiling, and he looked at Isak as if he was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen.

“Hey! I thought it was you guys! So great to see you again!”

Isak couldn’t help but shiver at the man’s deep tones, but looking at him, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older than Isak himself. The stranger smiled again, revealing a full spread of pretty white teeth. Isak had a sudden impulse to lean forward and test the ball of his thumb against the other’s sharp left incisor.

“We’re just, er, on our way out, actually, so...”

The stranger’s face darkened slightly. “Oh what a shame! Are you sure you can’t stay a few minutes? Your little one doesn’t seem to want to go just yet.”

Evelyn sent up a fusillade of wails in agreement. Sighing, Isak set her down where she could scramble safely against the shallow pool steps. “Okay, _just one minute_ then.”

 “We haven’t introduced ourselves properly,” said the man cheerfully holding out a hand. “I’m Even, by the way.”

He must have seen the look on Isak’s face, because his brows suddenly twitched in concern. “Oh my goodness, are you OK?”

Isak swayed slightly, and sat down with a splash on the shallow stairs next to Evelyn. “I’m OK …” he tried to mumble, before he got that feeling, that hideous, dizzy feeling, whenever he  thought of – _her_ \- and Even – _male Even_ – was suddenly next to him, wrapping a slender but strong arm around him and holding him upright. Through his nausea, he was dully aware of the other’s wet torso between his legs, holding his face. “Relax. I’ve got you. Relax. It’s OK.”

“Evelyn …” Isak managed to croak out, but Even glanced over and scooped up Evelyn who nestled happily in the crook of his shoulder. “She’s fine. She loves the water, not like her dad.”

Isak shook his head. Things were all too strange, too fast, too unreal. “I’m sorry,” he got out, before he was suddenly crying, no, _weeping_ , tears bursting out hard and fast and ugly. He wasn’t aware of much at all apart from Even pulling him to his feet and helping him up the pool stairs, where he fell down on a sun lounger, trembling.

Even knelt next to him, the sun glistening over his wet body, gently wrinkling his nose at Evelyn who was laughing her head off in the crook of his arm. “You’re still not well. I’m gonna take you both home.”

“No you’re not –“ began Isak, a deep wave of shame engulfing him at the thought of the dirty, smelly flat awaiting them, but Even shook his head decisively. “It’s that or I’m taking you down to A&E. You can’t keep fainting like that when you’ve got a little one to look after. Unless,” and his eyes suddenly crinkled into a pretty smile, “it’s just my magnetising effect on you. This is only the second time I’ve met you, and you’ve collapsed again.”

Isak managed a small smile. His head was rocking, and the dizzy feeling was surging around his insides, making it hard to think straight. But he knew that whatever happened, Evelyn was his top priority, and if he had to get over his embarrassment at his dirty house to keep her safe, that was just the way it had to be.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

 

***

 

Isak found out he was a dad during a group chat with the boy squad.

OH MY GOD! Magnus suddenly messaged excitedly. I HAVE GOSSIP!

eMmA AND eVeN ARE HAVING A BABY!

Isak felt his insides go cold.

WHAT THE FUCK messaged back Mahdi. WAIT WHAT WHY?!?!

Jonas was active on the group chat, Isak could see his green dot, but he wasn’t responding, which Isak appreciated so much at that particular moment.

THIS IS FUCKING UNREAL typed Mahdi. I WONDER WHO THE DAD IS

Magnus was unstoppable. DO YOU THINK HE FUCKED HER? I WANNA FUCK A LESBIAN. DOES ANYONE KNOW A LESBIAN THAT WANTS TO GET -

Isak’s phone rang, and he jumped in shock. It was Jonas.

“Dude, I guess you saw those messages just now on the group chat?”

Isak hiccuped some kind of reply, not making a huge amount of sense.

“Are you OK?” asked Jonas, concerned.

Isak wasn’t sure he was. Yes, he had agreed to be their sperm donor, and yes, they had agreed that he wouldn’t be involved, but … Emma could have _told_ him, she could have _rung him_ , for fuck’s sake, she owed him that much…

Isak took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m OK. I mean, it’s what I signed up for, Jonas, it’s OK, I’m cool.”

“Are you sure?” asked Jonas, and Isak scowled. Why hadn’t Emma just _texted him_ , out of common courtesy at the very least, instead of leaving him to find out about it in a _group chat_?

“Yeah,” blustered Isak, really wishing that his friend would just drop it. “I’m really glad for Emma, it’s what she wanted, so, uhhh … I’m pleased for her.”

Jonas paused for a long time, before he finally spoke. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Isak. It’s actually Even who’s pregnant.”

 

***

Isak couldn’t help feeling ashamed as he pulled his key out of the broken lock and let _male_ Even into their dark, messy house. Even was so tall that he had to stoop in the corridor, navigating the piles of trash that Isak somehow hadn’t gotten around to throwing out just yet.

“Oh, the light switch is broken there,” he muttered to Even, who was carrying both their bags and Evelyn. “You have to go through to the kitchen to put the lights on.”

Even looked slightly surprised, but grinned back. “Good, ‘cause that’s where I’m heading. You guys look like you could use some lunch.”

Isak’s mortification increased as Even settled Evelyn into her high chair, and saw him take in the ancient dried food crusted against the straps. He cleared his throat, in an attempt to divert Even’s attention. “There’s some sachets in the cupboard, I think, you’ll have to boil some water to heat it up, but I think the kettle’s fused so –“

Even tilted an eyebrow at him. “You got a potato, a carrot or something?”

“Erm, maybe in the fridge,” said Isak. There was probably a wormy old vegetable in the bottom from the last time Noora came round.

Even bent down to look in the fridge, and Isak tried not to look at the long slope of his back, and the top of his boxers that clung to his slim hips above his sloping jeans. “Yeah, there’s some veg in here, don’t worry, I make the best baby food ever. My girlfriend’s sister’s got twins, and I help her out a lot.”

Isak leaned back in his chair – the dizziness finally receding, and took in the sight of Even washing and cleaning the chopping boards, putting water on the boil and skilfully skinning the parsnip and carrot that he’d found. He had long slender fingers, and frowned in concentration over his task, paring and chopping like an artist. Fifteen minutes later, nutritious freshly-made baby food was all over Evelyn’s face, and at the same time Even somehow managed to crack the last packet of eggs into a bowl, grate some cheese and whip up a vegetable omelette for them both.

“Wow, you really are a multitasker,” said Isak, at a loss for anything else to say. “It takes me ages to even make a piece of toast.”

Even’s quick smile flashed at him from the other end of the table. “Yeah, all to do with my job I suppose. If you can't do twenty things simultaneously in my field, you're out of work."

“What do you do, actually?” asked Isak curiously. Somehow he couldn’t imagine Even – this Even – doing _anything_.

“Oh, I’m a DOP,” said Even casually, catching Evelyn’s spoon just as she was about to toss it across the room.

“DOP?” questioned Isak. It sounded strangely clinical.

“I’m a film maker. I rent myself out as a director of photography, but most often I only get assistant director gigs,” said Even, wrinkling his top lip. “But I generally get what I can, you know? Work’s hard to come by in this industry.”

“Wow,” said Isak again, lamely. Film directing seemed a glamorous thing that he should have expected Even – this Even – to be doing, but it was also something he knew nothing about. For a moment he felt hideous and stupid. _You’ve fucked your career, he thought bitterly at himself. You’ve fucked your life, your career and your love life all because you couldn’t say no. Well fucking done._

Even was looking at him teasingly. “Oh it’s not glamorous at all,” he said, as if he’d read Isak’s thoughts. “I’ve got an AD job at the moment for skin cream and it’s all just running around finding locations and sourcing props and getting shouted at.”

“Still,” said Isak, feeling again the all-consuming, paralysing sensation of boredom and tiredness about his own life in comparison to Even’s.

“That’s what I was doing in the park that day, actually,” said Even cheerfully. “Looking for locations. The way the sun catches those retro old swings? It looks really 70’s. I love it.”

“What, that rubbish old play centre?” grumbled Isak. “You wouldn’t think that if you had to sit and look at it every day for hours.”

Evelyn’s eyes started to droop, and Isak quickly took the opportunity to put her down for a nap in her cot. As he finished the last bite of omelette, he felt some strength returning, and was finally able to sit up and face Even properly. 

“You probably think I’m a terrible dad,” said Isak finally. “But it’s hard on your own. And I didn’t – I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way.”

Even’s blue eyes softened and he looked searchingly at Isak. “Want to sit down and tell me all about it?”

***

Emma, when she finally got in contact with Isak, seemed almost impatiently bemused with the fact that Isak had trouble with the idea that her girlfriend had gotten pregnant instead of her.

“I couldn’t get pregnant, Isak,” she hissed impatiently. “The doctors checked me over, and I’ve got – anyway there’s something on my ovaries that means it’s really hard to conceive, and then Even said maybe we should –“

Isak bit back a snarl. _Even said, Even said_ , everything was always fucking _Even’s_ idea.

“But you’re not cross, are you?” wheedled Emma, evidently aware that Isak was taking this extremely badly. “I mean, it won’t make any difference to our arrangement. You don’t have to be involved, we won’t put anything on you –“

“Fine,” snapped Isak. “Fine. You leave me out of it, you do what you fucking want. Or what fucking _Even_ wants, anyway.”

He turned on his heel and marched away, leaving Emma looking after him in stunned silence.              

Because it did make a difference. It made a hell of a difference. Just thinking about his sperm inside Even, about a baby – his baby growing – inside Even – made his head whirl.

 

***

 

“Wow,” said male Even, sitting on the sofa next to him, with his long legs delicately crossed, one slender foot bobbing gently up and down. “So after you broke up, your ex girlfriend got together with another girl, then asked you to be the father of her baby, but then she didn’t get pregnant, her girlfriend did …?”

Isak nodded. He’d kept out a few details, but the gist of the weirdness was there. “Yeah, that’s about it.”

Even’s soft lips flashed a smile at him. “Certainly a head fuck, if nothing else.”

“Yeah,” confessed Isak, feeling strangely unburdened with the calm in which Even was receiving this fucked-up story, which emboldened him to go further. “And the funny bit is, her name was Even too.”

Even’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay. Well, you know it’s a unisex name, I’m the only Even that I know, either boy or girl, but I dare say there are a few other Evens around.”

“Not just that,” sighed Isak. Even shook his head at him in mild confusion. “Okay, so – she looked a bit like you too.”

Even was blinking at him, face wide and bright. “No. Oh my god. Oh holy fuck.”

Isak started to laugh too. “Yeah, but like, the female version. Like you’re undeniably a boy, but –“ He coughed suddenly. He had meant to say “you have a beautiful face,” but he bit the words off at their source. _No, Isak._

“So that’s why you were so weirded out when we met? Because you thought I was your ex-girlfriend’s girlfriend that you got pregnant?”

Even threw back his head and laughed uproariously, slender throat thrown back, shoulders shaking. Isak watched him in awe. Male Even was more beautiful than most girls, long-lashed eyes, aquiline nose and slender cheek bones, but he had a cleft on his chin that female Even most definitely hadn’t, his shoulders were more muscled, and … not to mention the fact that Isak was suddenly reminded of the glimpse of Even in wet swimming trunks as he had manhandled Isak out of the swimming pool. No, this Even was undeniably male.

And, he’d mentioned a girlfriend. Twice now.

Even shook his head, the last of his laughter draining away from his pretty face, as he rolled his head back on the sofa and gazed at Isak. “So where are they then? Your ex and the mother of your child?”

Isak’s head started to whirl again, and he couldn’t stifle the small moan that escaped his lips. Even leant forward and smoothed his hair back from his hot face.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I’d like to,” said Isak, and to his surprise found that he meant it. “You’re a good listener.”

Even smiled at him. “Go on.”

 

***

 

When the baby arrived, Isak closed down his Instagram account, stopped going to school and smoked more weed in a week than he ever had in his entire life, mainly because the baby was all everyone was talking about.

Social media was a bitch. Isak had never realised how much it had filtered into everyday life, before his phone was constantly lighting up with a huge flood of images of a scrunched up, red face and tiny grabby hands.  Everyone seemed to be sharing the post, from Sara and the Pepsi Max girls to Sana and the girl squad. Magnus of course, had turned it into a meme, with a picture of the baby’s screaming face, and the words WHO’S YOUR DADDY!!! emblazoned across it in red.

Isak felt sick to his stomach. _I’m not a meme. My baby is not a meme._

There was a bit of gossip about who the father might be, but in general everyone assumed that Emma and Even had availed themselves of a sperm bank, and Jonas wisely kept his own counsel. Isak was relieved when the focus passed from who the father might be, to how much the baby looked like Even. Because she really did, from her huge blue eyes to her plump ruby lips. She didn’t look like Isak at all.

_It’s not your baby. It’s Emma and Even’s. For absolute fuck sake, Isak._

Isak sat his final exams the month after the baby was born, and he failed every single one of them. It might have been something to do with the two strong joints he smoked beforehand, or the fact he hadn’t slept for weeks. When he was called into the principal’s office to be informed that his scholarship to med school was no longer available due to his bad grades, he sat there in silence, without responding. When his father told him that he would no longer support him if he gave up studying he got up and walked off to Jonas’s house, without turning back. When he got a job in a local coffee shop that paid terrible wages, he felt nothing, apart from a vague relief that at least for one meal a day he could eat and drink for free. When Jonas gently suggested that he might want to live somewhere apart from his couch, Isak rounded on him in fury.

“I’ve got nowhere to go, Jonas! Where do you think I can go?”

“Okay, okay,” said Jonas, alarmed. “Look. I was thinking of starting another farm with some of the money my uncle left me. I wondered if you wanted to help?”

“A farm?” said Isak, wondering if Jonas had finally lost it. “You mean, sheep and cows and stuff?”

Jonas cracked up laughing, catching his head in the crook of his arm, and pummelling him with his fist. “No, you twit, a second weed farm. The first one’s going so well, I thought I might as well branch out to a second and buy another flat with the money I’ve made. You can sleep on the first floor, make sure that the crop gets watered and heated three times a day. You want in as my partner?”

Isak relaxed into the embrace, feeling warm again, and threw his arms around his friend. “You mean it? You really mean it?”

Jonas’s brown eyes stared down into him affectionately, and Isak blushed slightly before looking away. “I mean, I’m such a fuck up. I’ve messed up my life so badly, Jonas. I’ve lost my scholarship, my dad’s abandoned me, I’ve got a shit job and a baby that I’ll never see and will never know about me. Are you sure you want me as a business partner?”

He wasn’t prepared for the look that flashed across Jonas’s face. “Sure? You’re my best fucking friend in the entire world. Of course I’m sure.”

And that was everything that Isak needed.

As long as he had Jonas by his side, things couldn’t be too bad.

 

***

 

“This Jonas sounds like a dude,” smiled Even, long limbs folded cross-legged next to him a little while later. “You’re lucky to have him as a best friend.”

Isak felt the familiar punch of guilt in his stomach whenever he thought about Jonas. _It wasn’t your fault_ shouted his logical mind quickly, but his emotions hissed back, _Yeah, but you should have known. You should have been more careful for Jonas._

Even hadn’t missed the look on Isak’s face. “Are you okay?”

Isak forced the thoughts about Jonas into the dark corner of his mind where he usually kept them, and forced a smile. Telling Even about how Evelyn came to be seemed to have made that whole fucked up episode of his life better for some reason, but there was no reason to dump the Jonas situation on him too. Instead, he fudged. “Yeah. I mean, things are a bit more complicated between us than he knows, I never told him like I had a really bad crush on him, for a whole two years I was obsessed with him, and that included all the time I was with Emma, so…”

Even tensed slightly. “Okay.”

Isak hadn’t missed his reaction, and somehow it pleased him – Even was looking slightly thrown and vulnerable for a second – and he chose his words carefully. “I mean, nothing ever happened, but I came to realise that I’m … not, straight, so when Emma said that she wasn’t straight either, then it wasn’t really that big a deal.”

“Mmm,” replied Even, not looking at him. “It isn’t.”

For a moment Isak’s head whirled in the _good_ way, but then he reined himself in, remembering. _This guy mentioned a girlfriend, right? Don’t get stuck on him, remember Jonas, remember all the ways you misinterpreted his affections._

“Are you seeing someone at the moment?” asked Even rather too casually. Isak snorted before he caught the other’s veiled meaning. “Which guy is ever gonna date me now? I’m not even twenty and I have a kid, like I’m not gonna ever be able to go out, and if they come back to mine it’ll be all screams and shitty nappies, so…” Isak blurted out bitterly.

Even seemed suddenly very close to him, and Isak stiffened because – he didn’t know why exactly – but for a moment he worried that he was going to smell like – female Even – but male Even just smelled like fresh laundry and coconut suncream. He leaned his head on his slender wrist and looked over at Isak.

“So…. Why isn’t Evelyn’s mum still around?”

Even was looking at him – like really looking at him – with an intense look on his face, as if he was reading something below the surface that even Isak didn’t know.

“Well,” said Isak slowly. “There’s more.”

 

***

 

Everybody seemed to be leaving Oslo, going to different universities, schools and jobs. Mahdi was off to a technical college in the back of beyond to study engineering, Magnus had got a place to study modern languages in an English university of all places, and Sana had got the med scholarship that had been meant for Isak, because she had not only made her grades, but excelled them. Isak tried not to think about that too much.

Emma had already dropped out of high school to move in with Even over on the west side of Oslo, and Isak had just about reconciled himself to never hearing from them again, so instead of looking after the new weed farm, he went on a week-long bender with Jonas. It was fun, both of them incoherent and playful, eating and playing Fifa whenever they felt like it, driving stoned around town on the back of Jonas’s motorbike. It was a heady week, full of stupidity and adventure, stealing boats and sleeping in public parks, and finally when they felt too exhausted they headed home.

The first time Isak realised they had been gone too long was when they popped into the weed farm to realise that the lights and heat hadn’t been moderated in days, and the small seedlings lay dry and withered on the dessicated beds.

“Shit!” wailed Jonas, sinking to his knees and frantically turning the heating off. “Dead! All dead! My babies are dead!”

Isak had been slumped next to the wall, charging his phone, which had gone dead in day two, and blinked in disbelief as a hundred and twenty two notifications rammed their way into his screen.

His mobile had been ringing, he saw, 26 calls in 24 hours. All from Emma.

ISAK CALL ME.

ISAK? ARE YOU THERE?

He didn’t bother reading the rest of them, but instead listened to his ten voicemails.

“Isak, it’s Emma. Even’s gone – really, I don’t know. She’s like drunk or high or something, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Isak, I really need you right now, something’s not right with Even and I need to take her to hospital. Can you look after the baby?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Isak scrolled his way down the rest of the messages. The first he realised it was really bad news was the four notifications from Magnus.

OH MY GOD

HAVE YOU HEARD THE NEWS?

Isak looked up bewildered to see Jonas, also flicking his way through his hundreds of messages. Jonas felt his eyes on him, looked up, his eyes large and concerned.

“Isak, are you all right?”

Isak just gazed at him, stunned. Jonas put his phone down, came closer, grabbed his shoulders.

“Isak. Isak. Stay with me. It’s OK, I’m here?”

“What’s happened?” Isak’s voice eventually came out as a high pitched squeak, and instantly wanted to recoil at the look of pity in Jonas’s eyes.

“It’s … it’s bad news, I’m afraid, Isak.”

“Tell me.” Isak was clinging on to Jonas for dear life, fear surging around his chest, wetting his palms, clenching in his throat He couldn’t piece the ragged messages on his screen together, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. He wanted Jonas to tell him.

Jonas blew out a deep sigh. “Sit down, Isak,” he said unnecessarily. “Remember, whatever happens, I’m here for you. Remember that.”

Isak glared at him. “Tell me. Tell me, Jonas.”

His friend cleared his throat. “Listen, Isak …”

 

***

Evelyn’s anguished scream tore into the silence between them.

EARARHRGHGHGH !!!!!!!!!!

EARATTTTTHHGHGHGHGH !?????????????????

WERRETTHTHEHEHEHEHAGGGHHHHH       !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Isak jolted into the present with reflex promptness. “I gotta go …” he started to mumble, scrambling to his feet, before Even’s gentle hand in his chest stopped him. “No, you stay here. I’ll go.”

Before Isak could object, Even was padding over to the darkened bedroom and disappearing inside. Isak heard him gently shushing Evelyn and patting her back, and after a few angry wails when Evelyn realised that Isak wasn’t there, she subsided into grumpy moaning. Even came out into the living room with Evelyn pink and scowling on his shoulder.

“She’s up from her nap, so we’ve got three hours until the next one. Want me to take her to the park?”

“Uhhh …” Isak couldn’t find anything to say. Such as, “You’re a total stranger and you’re going to take my baby off to God knows where,” or “Oh God, yes please, I’m so tired.”

Even caught the doubt in his eye. “It’s OK, I’ll just play with her here. We can play peek-a-boo, or maybe hide and seek if she’s up for it.”

Isak still couldn’t manage to form any words. Even smiled at him. “Hey, you look like you could use a nap yourself. Why don’t you just snooze on the sofa, and we’ll be right here?”

He looked so calm and in control of the situation, Isak finally managed to find his voice.

“How do you know when she needs to sleep?”

Even looked surprised. “Babies need a sleep schedule. At her age, it’s usually three hours between naps. You didn’t know that?”

Isak found himself foolishly shaking his head. “No, uh. She wasn’t given to me with a manual, to be honest. I figured she’d just like, sleep when she’s tired.”

Even’s cheek twitched. “Some babies do naturally, but some get tired and overstimulated so they actually can’t sleep, you know, when they’re meant to. So you have to give them some wind-down opportunity. They should sleep for two cycles of forty minutes each nap, and later, they can move to half that. It’s sleep science.”

“OK,” said Isak uncertainly. “And how do you know about sleep science?”

A strange look passed over Even’s sunny face. “Well, I need a certain amount of sleep science myself, you know,” he muttered, and before Isak could ask him what he meant, he turned abruptly and was building a small fort of bricks painstakingly on the carpet so that Evelyn could joyously knock it over. The last image that met his eyes before he drifted gracelessly off to sleep was of Even lying on the floor, face upturned and giggling as his baby pulled at his floppy hair.

They looked so much alike.


	3. Rushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover what's happened to Jonas, 
> 
> AND Isak and Even finally get it on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY, IN DOPPELGANGER …  
> As I haven’t updated in a while (family hassles and shit summer job) I thought I’d do a quick cable-TV style recap ...!
> 
> After agreeing to be the sperm donor for his ex-girlfriend Emma, Isak is shocked to discover that actually Emma’s partner, a girl called Even, is the one who has become pregnant. However, owing to circumstances still to be fully revealed, Isak is suddenly left as a single teenage dad to baby Evelyn, struggling to cope and suffering from depression. Into his life strolls male Even – the living spit of female Even – beautiful, confident, capable and glamorous. Even is everything that Isak feels he isn’t. He’s the ideal man for Isak – but he has a girlfriend … and he's unnervingly similar to the mysteriously disappeared female Even ...

Visiting Jonas was always hard, but usually the guards let Isak through quickly if he was carrying Evelyn, not wanting to be trapped with a squalling infant in security for longer than necessary. Today however it was just Isak, putting his arms up in the air to let the sullen security frisk him, before emptying his pockets to put all their contents through the scanner. The security drill was now second nature to him and he didn’t even mind the invasion of privacy as the guard patted him down roughly and even examined the soles of his shoes for contraband. He signed the forms, waited for the papers to be stamped and handed back by the annoyed desk clerk, and put his coat and bag in the locker. He knew a couple of the wardens by sight now, and he smiled politely at them though they stared frostily back.

“VASQUEZ, J: C BLOCK,” read his printed badge as he followed the guards in the company of a few other families and friends down to the visiting area. Jonas was there, sitting at a table, dressed in the usual orange tabard with C BLOCK 5438 written on it. He wasn’t allowed to get up, or to touch Isak, but they were used to that now, so they just threw an affectionate hi at each other, and sat opposite each other at one of the grey plastic tables under the motionless glare of a female warden.

“Want anything?” asked Isak, motioning towards the canteen. He often bought Jonas drinks, chocolate or cigarettes there, as prison rules meant he wasn’t allowed to bring anything in with him. But Jonas just gazed back, surprised. “You haven’t brought my favourite girl with you?”

“Er, no…” stammered Isak, suddenly dismayed at the look in Jonas’s eyes. “Sorry. I thought it might be nice, just me and you, for a change?”

Jonas wrinkled his mouth. “So, uh, where is she right now then?”

Isak hadn’t been prepared for this. “Ok, so, I didn’t think you would get mad about this, but I kind of got a babysitter for the afternoon.”

“A babysitter?” Jonas’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Did the grandad finally come good, then?”

“Oh God no, I wouldn’t leave her with Dad,” said Isak hastily. “No, it was … You see, I’ve kind of met this guy.”

It hadn’t been further from his mind, this notion of upsetting Jonas, but upset him he definitely had. Jonas fixed him with an awkward stare.

“You’ve _met_ a guy?”

“No!” Isak shook his head frantically. “Not like that. He’s a friend. A film director.”

He hadn’t thought it were possible for Jonas’s eyebrows to go any further up, but somehow his friend managed it. “ _You_ met a film director?”

Isak felt ruffled by Jonas’s implication. “Yes, I did, in the park one day,” he said tartly. “I do meet cool people from time to time, Jonas.”

“I daresay,” Jonas allowed, rearing back in his chair and tapping his fingers distractedly on the tabletop.

“Prisoner 5438!” barked the guard. “All four chair legs to be on the floor!”

Jonas rolled his eyes, and tipped the chair back. “Screw you,” he muttered quietly.

“Are you cross I didn’t bring Evelyn?” asked Isak, timidly. This wasn’t how he’d expected it to go, he’d thought that he and Jonas could finally have some quality time together without endless trips to the toilet to change nappies or unsuccessful attempts to stop Evelyn crawling across the floor. But Jonas seemed sullen and disappointed. Isak couldn’t understand why.

“I was just looking forward to seeing her, that’s all,” said Jonas gruffly, and Isak was surprised to see his eyes were wet. “I was looking forward to seeing her.”

 

***

 

It had been his fault, all his fault.

As he knelt, petrified, on the floor of the weed farm after their weeklong bender with Jonas’s wild eyes looking back at him, they heard the unmistakeable crackle of a police radio outside in the street.

“Oh shit,” muttered Jonas. “Police.”

“Fuck,” muttered Isak, his nerves leaping and firing underneath his skin. “Is that shutter fixed?”

Jonas shook his head mutely.

Sound of radio static and beeps, followed by a “Mr Vasquez? Mr Vasquez? Are you at home?”

 “Sssshhhh!” gasped Jonas. “They’re at the front door!”

Isak’s stomach lurched. With one accord they both turned slowly to face the door and flinched at the sharp raps on it.

Jonas’s head snapped back to face him, his fingers on his lips. He didn’t need to ask. Isak was terrified of moving, terrified of everything. Why were the police here? What were they after? If for one moment they even _suspected_ they were knocking at the door of a weed farm …

“Mr. Vasquez? We’re looking for Mr. Valtersen. We know he’s a friend of yours.”

There was a pause. Both of them stared at each other, hearts pounding. Silence from outside now, and Isak felt the panic building in his chest. He was suddenly seized by an overwhelming urge to cough. Wrapping his hands around his mouth, he rocked to and fro, trying to force down the itch in his throat. He could sense Jonas looking at him in helpless fear, and he gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t cough, he wouldn’t –

Silence from outside –

Footsteps started to retreat –

Isak’s cough split its way out through his clasped hands, rasping once, twice. Tears sprang to Isak’s eyes, and in that moment he knew he had sealed Jonas’s fate.

It wasn’t very loud, but it was enough. The footsteps halted, turned, came back.

Jonas gazed at him, inscrutable.

“We can hear you’re in, Mr Vasquez. It’s very important we find Mr Valtersen, we have some bad news for him …”

Those last words sobered Isak right up, and he saw the corresponding flicker of hope in Jonas’s eyes. Bad news? For a moment he felt almost hopeful. They were looking for _him_ , not Jonas. If he went out to talk to them now – maybe they wouldn’t even realise what they had nearly stumbled upon. Things made a tiny bit of sense now. There had been some kind of bad news - of course people had been looking for him _. Of course_ they had been calling round his family and friends. Maybe someone had even called the police. _Of course_ at some point they would have been directed to Jonas.

He should have picked up. He shouldn’t have ignored the calls.

But why … _police_?!

His thoughts had moved too slowly, too late. From outside came a sudden exclamation. “Look here. What is this?”

Noise of shuffling and scraping, and a sudden silence.

“Oh fuck,” whispered Jonas. “They’re looking through the shutters.”

Beep of a police radio. “Call for immediate assistance,” followed by Jonas’s address and a string of numbers, perhaps a police code. Isak couldn’t move, couldn’t think. He was dimly aware of Jonas pulling at him and manhandling him to his feet.

“You have to go, Isak. NOW.”

“What …” Isak could hardly get the words out. “Why?”

“You can’t be found here. I’ll tell them I haven’t seen you. Just GO!”

Isak couldn’t get his feet to move. “What’s it about, Jonas?”

Jonas looked at him in frank horror, his fingers digging into Isak’s shoulder.

“There’s been a … some kind of accident. Emma and Even, they’re … they're ...”

The world tipped and span around him, and Isak put out a hand to steady himself, holding on to Jonas as if he was the only safe thing in a fearful world. What Jonas had said made no sense, _couldn’t be possible_ , no, no –

“Mr. Valtersen?” came from outside.

“What about Evelyn?” hissed Isak frantically, jerked back to his senses.

“Evelyn is okay,” mumbled Jonas, his face terrified. “But you’re … you’re the only one she has left, Isak.”

Isak put his hands to his face. “But why are the _police_ looking for me?”

“Apparently your name is down on the birth certificate as father.” muttered Jonas.

Isak felt the world plunge beneath him. “WHAT?”

Jonas pulled him to the back door, pushing at him frantically. “Go. Go now.”

Isak clung to him stupidly. “But Jonas, but –”

His friend pushed at him impatiently. “Get the fuck out of here! You want to be here when they kick the door down?”

Tears poured down Isak’s cheeks properly now. “No, Jonas, I can’t go –“

“You want to stay and go to prison with me?” hissed Jonas angrily, pushing him out of the back door to the alleyway beyond. “Like fuck you do! You need to go look after that baby, Isak, she’s got no one now. If you won’t do it for Emma, or Even, then at least do it for _me_.”

 

***

 

“So tell me about your guy,” said Jonas dryly, swirling a plastic spoon in a lukewarm cup of coffee that Isak had insisted on buying him to break the tension.

“He’s not _my_ guy,” Isak rolled his eyes. “He’s got a girlfriend.”

“Heard that one before,” countered Jonas with a bitter smirk. “Time was you were the biggest female heartbreaker at Nissen.”

Isak forced a smile. “Yeah. Well, okay, maybe.”

He didn’t know what to say about Even. How could he describe someone that he knew so little and yet so well? How could he describe how his smile lit up his face like the sun, how safe and fun he made them both feel when he came round to play with Evelyn, how happy and flushed he made Isak when he cooked him dinner or cracked jokes or …?

“Well, we met at the playground, and he’s … well he’s really…” (he tried not to use any of the enthusiastic adjectives like _hot charming beautiful sexy_ that leapt to his mouth whenever he thought of Even) “… really _helpful_ and, uh, he’s _kind_ , he’s helped me with Evelyn loads and …”

“And you trust him?” shot back Jonas, his eyes dark.

“Uhm, well yes,” Isak felt bewildered. “We’ve hung out quite a bit these past couple of weeks, and he’s … helped me sort out the flat, and … he drove us both to the studio this morning so I saw it was legit, and …”

“The studio?” asked Jonas, casual as you like.

Isak took a deep breath. “He, uh, is actually filming her for an advert.”

Jonas’s mouth dropped open. “A advert? You’re kidding?”

Isak’s eyes darted around in characteristic confusion. “What’s wrong with ..? You don’t think she’s pretty enough?”

“Jesus, Isak! Of course she’s pretty enough, I just meant … It seems an odd thing for you to be doing. An odd thing for you to let happen, I suppose.”

Isak frowned sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jonas groaned. “I mean, you’ve always been so down on parents who get their children into stage school or adverts, I didn’t expect you would tender your child out for profit, if that’s not putting it too harshly.”

“For profit? It’s nothing like that!” Isak was stung into indignation. “We’re not doing it for the money –“ in fact he was suddenly wondering had Even ever _talked_ about money – “but Even needed a baby for an advert he’s shooting so I …”

“Oh. All right then.” Jonas blew out his cheeks, shrugged as if the subject bored him. “If you’re cool with it.”

Isak felt like crying. He had wanted an afternoon with Jonas but his friend was so torn and bitter that they could barely say two words to each other. It almost seemed as if Jonas was … well, _jealous_ ….

Because ordinarily he wouldn’t have been cool with it. Ordinarily taking his baby to some kind of casting call would have been totally outside his comfort zone, if he’d even known that casting calls existed at all.

But it was all because of Even. Even, who after a few minutes of furrowed-brow conversation on the telephone had suddenly crashed the phone down and swung round to him, smile wide and excited as a child. “I want to shoot your baby!” he’d cried out, laughing joyously at Isak’s shocked expression. “Oh! I meant, we need a baby for the nappy shoot tomorrow. The one we were going to use has gotten croup, so I thought, why not bring Evelyn, she’d be terrific!”

And the thing was, Isak hadn’t even given it a second thought. After only a few days he – well he trusted Even, he’d trust him with his life. More than his life, actually, he was trusting him with Evelyn, wasn’t he?

“She’ll be fine,” said Isak finally, feeling a wave of shame and guilt surge over him. “I’m going to pick her up directly after this.”

 

***

 

The studio was a whirl of chaos when Isak arrived. The girl on the desk hadn’t wanted to let him through because Even hadn’t left his name on the list for some reason, so it took some convincing for her to understand that he was the father of their newest model for the aptly-named _Little Shitz_ nappy company. It then took Isak more time to convince a floor manager to allow him into the studio, and even more time for a runner to take him through to the _Little Shitz_ shoot itself. When he actually glimpsed Even, dressed in slim fit white T-shirt and skinny jeans, he was holding Evelyn easily on one hip while surrounded by crew and cast all asking him different things at once. It was clear it wasn’t a good time to interrupt so Isak surreptitiously squeezed himself into a corner - so Evelyn couldn’t see him and cry - and instead interested himself in watching Even in action.

Isak could see why Even was so good at multitasking. He was simultaneously shouting instructions to the boom operator, checking off the storyboard and mopping up a bit of Evelyn’s sick from his clothes with a baby wipe. All of which he did with his usual charming smile and grace so that the pressured crew worked as happily as possible. Even had told him the _actual_ director was some big shot that _Little Shitz_ had paid thousands for, but he was barely in evidence. Even as the assistant director was the one who appeared to be doing all the work: organising the props, lining up the shot, checking for continuity so nobody suddenly started to wear different clothes mid-scene and nothing magically disappeared and appeared somewhere else between shots.

  _Jeez,_ thought Isak admiringly to himself. _This guy has it all worked out._

After about an hour of this Isak could see that Evelyn was getting tired and weepy, so Even called for a nap-break, and that’s when Isak stood up and Even saw him for the first time.

“Hey, you’re here!” Even had a unique way of showing his delight whenever Isak appeared on the scene, cocking his head to the side like an eager puppy and crinkling up his eyes in merriment as if Isak was the best secret joke he had ever heard. “Look, Evy! Daddy’s here!”

Even handed over a heavy-eyed Evelyn who rolled into the baby carrier immediately and dropped off. His eyes met Isak’s in gentle questioning. “I thought you were gonna take a bit more time off? Catch up with your friends a bit more today?”

“I, uh, yeah,” said Isak, feeling somewhat cast down. “I went to see Jonas but I didn’t stay long. We kind of had a – I don’t know. He seemed to want to see Evelyn more than me and so he was pissed that I didn’t bring her.”

“Jonas?” Even’s blue eyes glimmered with sympathy. “Is that your friend in the prison?”

“Yeah,” said Isak shortly, gazing down at Evelyn’s snoozing head and stroking her light brown curls softly. “It’s all because of me that he’s in there, though, so I always feel awful when I upset him.”

“What do you mean, it’s all because of you?” said Even, surprised.

Isak mentally kicked himself. He had never gotten around to telling Even the whole story before Evelyn interrupted them, and he hadn't really had much of an urge to revisit that part of his history. “Oh, uh, it’s just …”

Even raised an eyebrow at him. “He _was_ running a weed farm, you said.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” snapped Isak, twitchy as always whenever someone brought up the subject of Jonas. “It’s not like he was running an entire … _drug cartel_ or something. I just think, if only I’d been there a bit more for him, you know?”

“Well, what’s done is done, and you could follow the _if only’s_ to the end of time, couldn’t you?” smiled Even gently. “If you hadn’t been a donor then there wouldn’t have been an Evelyn, and if there hadn’t been an Evelyn, you’d never have been in that playground, and then I’d never have met you.”

Isak’s heart thumped slightly, but he felt uneasy. After Evelyn had interrupted their conversation about Emma the other week, he’d left Even to draw his own conclusions and Even had been sensitive enough not to push for more information. The idea of telling him out loud about Emma and Even’s accident made him flinch away as if he was scratching at an open sore.

And with that, he suddenly realised that Evelyn’s first birthday was less than two months away now, and the thought made his stomach lurch. This was it. Evelyn was all alone, and he was all she had in the world. And he wasn’t worth anything.

Even looked at the expression on his face with sympathy. “Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t know much about the situation between you and Jonas but I can tell you’re in some kind of pain. Do you want to have a look at some of the rushes of your amazing daughter?”

“The what?” asked Isak, more grumpily than he had meant, but Even just laughed. “The rough cuts. Do you want to see the beautiful Evelyn Valtersen in her film debut?”

 

***

 

The rushes were beautiful: Even had really captured the essence of Evelyn’s beauty on the shots he’d used. High definition and super quality, like some top-notch perfume ad, Evelyn looked more real, almost more _alive_ than Isak could bear, her big blue eyes lighting up the screen, and her laughing smile. The camera had sought out the best of her: the pink sheen of her baby-skin, her soft little fingers, and her little wobbly legs as she staggered, fell, rolled over and pealed with laughter. When she waved at the camera in bubbling delight, Isak knew by the expression on her face that she was playing with Even.

It was unmistakeably a work of genius, but there was something more, something that Isak couldn’t get away from when he saw his baby on the big screen. All he could see in radiant technicolour was Even’s face in Evelyn’s, see his blue eyes and beautiful, generous mouth and his sunny smile –

“She looks just like you,” he breathed, entranced, before he knew what he was saying. Even glanced over at him, amused. “Like me?”

Isak stumbled, bewildered. “No, no, I meant Emma’s girlfriend, of course.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the name _Even_.

Even grinned. “Well, you said your baby momma looked like me, apparently, so it’s no surprise. Don’t worry, I quite like it.” But Isak didn’t miss the quick searching flick of Even’s eyes as he glanced at Isak and away again, a pink spot of colour burning on his pale cheek.

“Even!” called the studio assistant waving at him from across the room. “Sonja’s here!”

Even’s head jerked up. “Here already? Shit, what time is it?”

Isak didn’t hear what the assistant responded, because he was already looking – with a sick, jealous feeling – at the tall girl stalking across the floor towards them.

Sonja? _That Sonja?_

She had short honey-coloured hair cropped in a bob and was dressed in expensive office clothes; silk blouse, pencil skirt and high heels that made her almost as tall as Even. Sweeping past Isak as if he didn’t exist, she put her hands on her hips and gazed at Even like a schoolteacher.

“I thought I told you not to take the car today! I have a business meeting and I told you that I needed it to drive there in time!”

“Oh, hi, honey,” said Even, looking for the first time since Isak had known him, a little embarrassed. His cheek looked a little red but his voice was perfectly steady. “Sorry, I had so much kit to bring to work today. Not to mention this lovely _baby actor_.” He indicated Evelyn and Isak with a wave of his hand. “This is Isak, by the way, and his daughter –“

Sonja glanced blankly at Isak and turned away, typing out a text on her phone even before Even had finished speaking. Her imperious way of talking instantly grated on Isak’s nerves. He wondered how the cheerful, easy-going Even could stand it; then he realised that it was probably because Even _was_ so cheerful and easy-going. He wondered, not for the first time, how it was that the nicest people could sometimes have the most unbearable partners?

“The thing is, I promised to give Isak and Evelyn a lift home,” Even was saying mildly, but Sonja cut him off.

“Well I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to take the car now, so you’ll have to work out another way to do your thing,” said Sonja abrasively. “Next time you’ll just have to remember if I have something important to do.”

She leaned over for a kiss, and when Even didn’t respond, she pulled his face around with two scarlet-painted nails and claimed his lips for a brief second. Even didn’t flinch, but somehow Isak could tell he was angry. Angry at being scolded in front of the entire shoot team, angry because he wouldn’t be able to fulfil his promise to give them a lift home, and angry because he was stuck with a pile of kit and would have to shell out for a taxi or call in favours. 

“It’s okay,” said Isak, as Sonja departed. “I’ll just get the bus with Evelyn. You’ve got enough to do without driving us around.”

Even’s face looked taut with repressed rage, but rather than say anything he simply nodded and busied himself with checking the storyboard and ticking off the rushes. Isak on the other hand was boiling with quite a different emotion. The feeling when Sonja had so blithely kissed Even after telling him off like a child made him seethe in impotent rage. His stomach surged with the emotion that had consumed him upon seeing her lips on his, and her fingers manipulating his face.

He recognised the sensation of old. It was jealousy. Hot, bitter jealousy.

 

***

 

After the shoot closed a couple of hours later, Isak felt exhausted and took Evelyn home on the bus, loudly waving aside Even’s millions of apologies and promises to make it up to him. He knew that he wouldn’t be seeing Even for a couple of days because this was when the real work started: this was when Even would be in charge of dismantling the shoot and combing through the preliminary rushes, checking for lighting and sound imperfections.

Strangely, the thought of not being around Even gave him some relief. He hadn’t been prepared for the wave of blind jealousy that had hit him when he watched Sonja kiss Even in that entitled fashion. He wasn’t at all sure what that was saying about them at all.

Letting himself into the flat, Isak suddenly missed Even with renewed force. Even had been dropping by fairly regularly and there were now signs of his presence everywhere he looked. He couldn’t help but see that now the hall light was working, the sink was no longer blocked and humming, and there were flowers on the table. There was home-made baby food ready in the fridge, the baby chair was sparkling clean and the laundry had been done. For the first time the flat really looked like a home. For some reason this made him feel worse than before.

He fed Evelyn with the food Even had left for her, and felt Even’s skilful touch in the way she smacked her lips over every mouthful. He showered and put on fresh clothes, and felt Even’s smell in the clean material touching his skin. He found a small cartoon of Evelyn and himself pinned to the wall with a BOSS BABY tag on it in Even’s handwriting and laughed a little too heartily.

 _Fuck_ , he thought suddenly, knocking his forehead against the wall. _Fuck, not again. Not another straight man that you’re going to waste your life crushing over._

Isak’s history of straight-man crushes had been long and fraught, both in and out of the closet. He didn’t know why – maybe it was the thrill of the unattainable, maybe it was the innocence of their interactions with him, or maybe he just liked straight dick. He knew that it wasn’t healthy, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself. From time to time he’d have a crush that turned out not to be _that_ straight, or maybe find a guy who was curious, or flattered enough by Isak’s attention to give it a try. But mostly nothing would come of it, or the guy would go back to his girlfriend or wife or whatever, and Isak would be left alone with nothing but a broken heart and a guilty conscience. So yeah, thank you, he wasn’t going to repeat _that_ experience. Not again.

Later, once Evelyn was in bed, Isak sat toying with a beer and lit the candles that Even had left on the table with the flowers. It was a bit of a mistake because it made the Even-craving inside him even louder and more insistent. Drinking beer was having precisely the opposite effect to blunting his feelings.  All he could do was sit brooding over Sonja, looking at his watch occasionally, calculating what he would be doing, and when. By now, Even would have made his way home, by now he’d probably be at home with Sonja, by now they’d almost definitely be in bed, by now –

Isak forced his mind away from thoughts of Even in bed with Sonja: that way madness lay. To distract himself he tried to place a call to Jonas at the prison, but was told that Jonas was out of phone privileges for that week. He would have to call back after Monday when privileges were renewed again.

He put the phone down and swore angrily until tears leapt to his eyes. He _hated_ the idea of Jonas being in prison more than anything else. Shouted at to put all four legs of his chair on the ground, stopped from using the telephone to talk to friends, treated like a naughty child when he was a fucking _adult_ , for _fuck’s_ sake.

He opened another beer.

Pretty soon he was slipping down a rabbit-hole of regret and self-loathing, letting the half-buried memories of the previous year rise up and consume him. The Jonas situation _was_ all his fault, he told himself angrily, no matter what anyone said. It was _all_ his fault.

Jonas had taken the whole rap all for him. He’d opened the door to the cops once Isak had made his escape, he’d told them that he hadn’t seen Mr. Valtersen in days, and then he’d stood aside to let them in to see the little weed industry and held out his wrists for the cuffs.

No, Mr. Valtersen had never been involved in his cottage weed industry, and no Mr. Valtersen had no knowledge of it. Jonas had not so much as let Mr. Valtersen in on his secret. Mr. Valtersen never smoked weed, disapproved of it, had nothing to do with it at all. Religious, you know. His mother had brought him up a good religious boy.

Isak drained the can and reached for another one.

 _“Look after that baby, Isak,”_ had been Jonas’s last words to him. _“If nothing else, do it for me.”_

Jonas had taken everything on himself, so that the baby would have a father to look after her. That had been Jonas’s sacrifice, and his last request. Without Isak on the scene, Evelyn would have been taken into care, and Jonas had done everything he could to prevent that happening.

And _what the fuck,_ Isak wasn’t even able to get through one single day without wishing that he wasn’t a father. He was so _bad_ at it. He couldn’t cook, he was a nightmare when he didn’t have enough sleep, he never remembered to have enough baby milk or washing powder in the house, he was such a fucking _loser_.

“I’m sorry Jonas,” he muttered drunkenly to himself, crumpling up the can and flinging it at the pile of its identical friends on the other side of the room.  

The next beer warmed up and began to lose its taste as his mood grew sourer. _Yeah but what chance had he ever had_? His mother had been a loser and passed her loser genes down to him. Maybe he’d passed on loser genes to his fucking daughter, chances were. How shit would that be, he thought to himself: Evelyn damned from birth because of _her loser fucking dad._

 _Baby, baby, baby,_ he whispered to himself. _I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry._

 

***

 

He was five beers in and wallowing in a ton of self-pity so he didn’t hear the soft knocking at his door until it turned into a sharp insistent rapping at his window. He took a while to pull himself to his feet, and blunder his way down the corridor, and a while to work out how to open the catch on the inside of his door. However he sobered up almost instantly from the massive bolt of adrenalin that shot through him at the sight of Even, dark-eyed and uncomfortable, leaning in his doorway.

“I argued with Sonja,” said Even, unable to meet Isak’s shocked look. “Can I crash on your sofa tonight?”

Isak nodded wordlessly, and led the way in without asking why. Even took in the sight of the trashed beer cans strewn across the floor with a raised eyebrow. “Been having a party?”

“Ugh,” Isak threw himself down on the sofa. “Just … thinking too much, I guess.”

Even smiled sympathetically. “I know all about thinking too much. Want to talk about it?”

“No,” said Isak bluntly. “Do you want to talk about Sonja?”

“No,” said Even with a short, mirthless laugh, sitting down next to him, arms behind his head. At Sonja’s name, Isak felt a corrosive bubble of jealousy rising in his stomach and he scowled involuntarily. A short silence fell. Even’s blue eyes met his in silent question.

“Sorry,” said Isak shortly. “I’m in a bit of a shitty mood today.”

“Is it anything I did?” asked Even, sitting up to attention, face instantly concerned.

“It’s just … it’s just today …” began Isak, not properly knowing what he was going to say. Too many fucking things were swirling around in his head, threatening to burst out and overwhelm him, most of which was Even sitting cross-legged on the sofa in front of him, surprisingly poised for such a sprawling, long-legged boy. “Today I was going to try to plan her birthday. And it just seems too much to do on my own.”

“Is it something that you have to do on your own?” asked Even, reasonably enough. “Is it something that … the mother might want to get involved with?”

Isak sat up and pulled his knees up to his chest, choking with the pain that was about to burst out of him, loud, and angry. “No, I _do_ have to do it on my own. Her mother’s not around because she’s dead, Even. They both died.”

 

Even was brilliant. He didn’t ask why, or demand to know what happened, he immediately sat up and held out his arms. Without knowing what he was doing, Isak leaned forward and pushed his face into Even’s shoulder, feeling the short, bitter tears soak into Even’s shirt and disappear forever.

_I’m such a shit. It’s all my fault …_

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Even started to say comfortingly, putting his arm around Isak and patting him softly at the base of his spine.

_God, the way you touch me …_

Warmth seeped through Isak’s shirt at the touch of his fingers, and melted his pain away. Scarcely aware of what he was doing, Isak curled in to Even like a cat. He rolled his face against Even’s chest, revelling in the hard muscle beneath the thin T-shirt, drinking in the beautiful clean smell of soap and Even-ness that rose from his skin.

_It doesn’t feel like a few weeks that I’ve known you. It feels like – forever –_

He was aware of Even’s hand slowly rising up, up, up the length of his backbone, coming to rest on the back of his head, and the sensation of his fingers suddenly pushing into the hair at the nape of Isak’s neck. Despite himself he couldn’t stop a soft hum of bliss at Even’s gentle touch. Part of his brain was singing in happiness, the other half was incoherently shouting something that may or may not have been _Another straight guy? You stupid idiot!_

“I know you’re hurting,” murmured Even, breath buzzing against his ear, “and I’m here for you if you need to talk. Or if you just want to forget about it, that’s okay too.”

Isak nodded, but found himself unable to speak. Instead he let his arms creep slowly around Even’s neck and dropped his head so his cheek pressed against his warm collarbone. He struggled to resist the overwhelming urge to open his mouth and taste his skin. Even combed his fingers through his hair again and again until Isak was practically molten in his arms.

_Fuck this is a bad idea fuck this is a bad idea fuck this is …_

“Just relax,” whispered Even, his arms tightening around him. “It’s okay to feel bad sometimes.”

Instead of comforting Isak, his words just made Isak feel worse. _How did Even always manage to have everything so well worked out all the time? Isak was such a mess, he didn’t deserve anyone like Even. What a fucking loser he was._

The thoughts in his head were so loud and insistent that he closed his eyes, rolled his head the other way, and rested his cheek on Even’s firm chest. To his surprise he felt Even’s heart suddenly beating sixteen to the dozen, thumping underneath his ribs with a force that made him quiver.

He paused, fascinated. Even was _nervous_ , and the thought made him bolder.

Isak had game, he knew he did – or at least he used to; somewhere back in his old life – he had been good in bed, he seemed to remember, he’d have known well enough what to do to make another boy crumble under his touch. But here, with the golden expanse of Even’s skin and hair glimmering around him, he felt almost awestruck and shy, as if all his senses were filled up to the brim. But now he knew that Even, with all his surface confidence and capability, was just as anxious as him.

He slipped his hand underneath Even’s T-shirt and dragged it slowly up his stomach, fingertips snagging slightly on the skin, feeling the other boy’s heart-rate galloping beneath his touch. When Isak’s fingers brushed over Even’s nipple, Even let out his breath in a sudden explosive shudder that made Isak smile to himself. “Okay?” he breathed quietly, turning his face so that his lips were grazing Even’s throat.

“Okay,” stuttered Even, his breathing coarse and heavy. “Don’t stop.”

_Not such a straight boy, then._

Isak finally let his lips drop softly onto Even’s neck, inhaling his smell and the dusky sensation of his skin, opening his mouth wide so he could _drink_ Even in, taste the intoxicating sense-mixture of sun-warmed flesh and the slight salt taste of sweat. Even moaned as Isak tongued his throat gently, one hand clutching feebly at the hair at the back of Isak’s head, his whole body quivering as tight as a bowstring. Encouraged, Isak kissed down the cords of his long neck and along his collarbones, on high-alert for any warning that the other boy wanted him to slow down, but felt only a soft _yes yes yes_ trembling throughout his whole frame.

Slowly he pulled Even down onto the sofa so they were lying pressed against each other, his face still nuzzling Even’s collarbone. Even turned into him without hesitation, hands roaming entranced over his back, his hips slipping languorously against Isak’s with a surging movement that made them both gasp for air. Isak rolled on top of him, hands supporting his weight so he could stare down at Even’s face beneath him. He arched his back and Even’s large hands slid down over his hips, holding Isak in place as he rocked gently above him.

 _God, we fit_ , thought Isak distractedly to himself, _I fit with you so well._

“Is this okay?” he breathed, hardly daring to speak.

Even’s blue eyes stared up at him, a delighted smile breaking across his face.  

“I mean, we can stop if … things are going too fast,” Isak started to whisper, but Even took his hand and raised it to his lips, peeling open his fingers and slipping the tip of his tongue between them warmly, wetly. Isak’s toes curled involuntarily as Even’s mouth owned him, the touch of his soft lips sucking his palm, and his tongue sliding around in a soft circle that made his head whirl.

_Fuck, you’ve got game too. Who knew._

Even’s eyes smiled as he saw Isak start to pant and writhe a little against him. He kissed each of the tips of his fingers in turn, his eyes hot and heavy, before taking hold of Isak’s index finger and putting it gently between his soft lips. Isak gasped, feeling the hot pull as Even started to suck on his finger, sliding it in and out of his mouth, hand firm on his wrist, the warmth of his tongue silky as he licked between his fingers. Isak groaned and shuddered, the sensitivity of Even’s touch sending small prickles of electricity down his arm so that his hairs stood on end.

“Ohmigod,” he mumbled, lips slack and drooling. “Do that again.”

Even glanced up at him from under downcast lashes and widened his mouth to bring two of Isak’s fingers in at the same time, sucking harder so Isak’s fingers were pulled in once, twice, three times. He watched dizzily as Even’s eyes closed in bliss, rhythmically blowing his fingers and softly licking the buds of his fingertips, a sensation that fizzled all the way to his groin.

_Fuck, if he can do this to my fingers, what’s he going to do to my –_

He felt himself jutting painfully hard against Even’s stomach and couldn’t resist the urge to thrust against him a couple of times. Even gasped and glanced down, adjusting his hips so that they were moving together, legs curling around each other, his cock pushing needily against Isak’s balls from below as if frustrated by the clothes between them. _Okay. Okay. Here we go._

Isak gently pushed Even’s arms above his head, and held his hands down so he was lying stretched out over Even, feeling him moan and buck helplessly against him. Slowly he kissed down the line of Even’s jaw, and started to suck on the side of his slender throat, drawing it into his mouth and biting at the tender flesh gently. Even’s breath sobbed in his chest but Isak clung on, one hand wrapped around Even’s neck, his mouth working overtime, greedily sucking deep. Even cried out, but Isak cooled the pain by swiping his tongue over the bruise a couple of times, before going back to his task.

 _I_ _want to mark you_ , he thought, pulse beating loud and possessively in his ears. _I want to show her you’re mine._ _I want to show everyone you’re mine –_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've visited a friend in jail a couple of times in a low-security, low-offending prison, so the security stuff is based on that - I haven't visited prisons in Norway but I can't imagine that things are that different - feel free to correct me if I'm wrong though!


	4. The Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV Even, in which we discover Even's not as clued-up as he looks to Isak - nobody ever is.
> 
> I got sidetracked from this lil’ doppelganger fic but I always meant to come back to it someday – I hope you remember it! If you don’t, you can always read this chapter just for the smut, LMAO.
> 
>  

 

Even had had the _worst_ day.

He’d started off okay, but the lights had felt a little too bright, a little too smudged, and his thoughts were racing ahead too fast, so fast that it was hard to connect them up. There was something important he had to remember, but every time he tried to zero in on that thought, he circled around and got distracted by a million other things.

A ping of a text alerted him to Sonja’s message. REMEMBER NEW MEDS TIMETABLE. He huffed, deleted the message and shoved the phone in his pocket.

Outside the studio, he passed a group of girls sitting on the corner, and felt rather than saw them all elbowing each other frantically and giggling. One raised her phone and took a stalker pic so he deliberately looked the other direction. At the store the man next to him tried to catch his eye so he took out his phone and stared at it instead.

Even was used to being looked at, being hit on and chatted up. He was aware – in an objective sense – that people thought he was attractive, but he hated it. He _hated_ how he looked, hated it when people looked at him admiringly or told him they thought he was beautiful.

 _What’s the point of looking good when you’re ugly inside_ , he thought to himself bitterly. It seemed tragically laughable for people to be attracted to him only for him to shy away from them.

_If you only knew what a mess I am inside you’d never want me._

It hadn’t always been like this. Around fourteen, when he miraculously metamorphosed from a skinny mess of bones and hair into something approaching good looking, he had been pleasantly surprised with the amount of male and female attention he’d gotten, all the eye contact and the miles and the kisses and the excuses to touch his hair or sit on his knee and the phone numbers.

When he hit sixteen his phone was ringing off the hook, his Facebook likes were off the charts and his mom had had to send away some of the girls that were always hanging around by his door.

When he hit seventeen a guy at school had become obsessed with him, and the police had had to be called. By the time it was Russ every girl in school was his for the taking, and quite a few boys too. About that time, he’d had some strongly compelling ideas – thinking he could fly was one of them, and deciding to become a sex worker was another, before he’d woken up in hospital stuck full of tubes like a pin cushion.

And it was Sonja who had emerged from the chaos, the Sonja who had organised and bossed and made him able to function for the last few years. The Sonja who oversaw his meds, took him to appointments, called his parents when he started to wild out; the Sonja who had turned up at the studios right in front of Isak, pretty much said she didn’t care how he and his daughter Evelyn got home, and embarrassed him horribly in the process.

And now, after a whole evening of shouting and yelling at the one person he’d relied on for years, Even had stormed out and gone to the only place he wanted to be.

Where he was lying on his back, looking up at the most incredibly arousing sight in the world; Isak sitting straddled over his hips, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy. Even could look at him like this all day; had imagined him like this since the moment he saw him.

“Can I kiss you?” murmured Isak, looking down at him.

Even gasped. _Please, please, please kiss me_ , he thought excitedly, _that’s the only thing I’ve wanted since I first saw you._

“Yes, yes,” he managed to whisper, “kiss me baby, please.”

Isak leaned down, green eyes searching his face seriously, until his nose was grazing Even’s. “ _Baby_?” he whispered teasingly. “We’re at that stage already?”

Even nuzzled up against him, smiling, feeling their cheeks and noses sliding together, rubbing softly and bopping against each other. Eskimo-kisses, his mum used to call them. Having Isak lying so close on top of him made his head whirl. He could smell the warm honey of Isak’s hair pressed against him; he rubbed against Isak’s cheek like a cat seeking a caress. and he laughed suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Isak, confused, and Even shook his head. “Nothing. I’m happy. Kiss me.”

He felt Isak settle lower on him, weight shifting to his elbows each side of Even’s shoulders, before a warm softness enveloped his lips, making him feel buzzy and bright and full of good things. He felt the soft, lazy drag of Isak’s mouth moving against his own, and his senses rocketed into thousand-mile overdrive.

“Uhhhh,” he groaned out before he could help himself, and Isak giggled, a pure, childish sound that went straight to Even’s heart and made him gaze up at him with wonder. “That good, huh?”

“Better than good,” murmured Even, chasing Isak’s mouth, neck straining upwards as he searched for more of the hypnotising electric contact. “More.”

Isak bent down to kiss him again, and Even opened up beneath him, his own lips soft and exposed and wanting, feeling Isak work his tongue tenderly into his mouth. Even’s heart double-flipped at the sensation, parting his lips as much as he could to let Isak in, feeling the warm spasm of excitement jumping between them. Isak shifted to pulling Even’s bottom lip open, nuzzling and nibbling on it greedily. Even moaned again. _Shit, this boy_. His lips felt sticky and sweet on Even’s, making his head whirl, as Isak’s tongue circled his lips, tracing his mouth with his own.

God it was _ages_ since he’d kissed a guy. Too long, in fact – the exact year slid out of his head because there were too many thoughts in there –  and not just _any_ guy; now he was kissing _Isak_ of all people. Isak with his floppy curls and his long lashes and his green eyes that looked like forest pools.

The moment he’d seen him in the park with his tantruming daughter, dressed down in a shitty tracksuit and with unwashed hair, Even had seen the graceful curve of his cheekbone as he glanced up, and he’d thought a big, fat, _oh no. I’m in trouble here._

Because Isak – Isak was different. He was _strong_ , for one thing, much stronger than Even, he _had_ to be, he was doing literally the hardest job in the world, being a parent, all on his own, and he never complained, he just got up from whatever blow he’d had and carried on.

Even admired him, admired him so much. He himself had given up before; many times he’d decided that this merry-go-round of ups and downs wasn’t worth it, and one time he’d even tried to exit before being found by his horrified parents and put into counselling.

And he’d carried on, because nobody gave him any option, but he’d hated himself so much for it, hated the way he’d made everyone feel, hated the way he made himself feel.

Until he’d gone to photograph a children’s park for a commercial and seen a boy standing next to a swing, and everything had changed.

And when Isak had gone and fainted at the sight of him, it had turned Even on a little, he wasn’t gonna lie.

“What’s wrong, baby?” murmured Isak into his mouth, conscious of Even’s wandering attention. Even shook the memories away and opened his lips up to Isak’s.

It was incredible, kissing Isak like this; Isak was wild and needy and totally in control. His mouth was all over Even’s, his tongue curling into his mouth with soft, insistent darts that drove Even wild, his legs sprawled over Even’s groin, squeezing his hips teasingly, rolling his ass slowly over his swollen cock.   

 _Fuck, I’m really going to come like this,_ Even thought wildly. _There’s no way I can stop it if he keeps grinding on me like this._

He pulled his mouth away from Isak’s with a soft pop. “Can we go slow? I don’t want to miss anything.”

Isak giggled again, and Even wanted to leap into that sound, so soft and perfect, and pull it around him like a cloak. “Of course we can. What do you want to do?”

What Even _wanted_ to do was get his dick out and have Isak sink onto it immediately, but he was also aware that he wanted to savour every single moment without rushing. He’d had too much sex where his brain was going too fast to even remember it, and this wasn’t a mistake he wanted to make with Isak. Their first time was something he wanted to have always.

Isak was kissing up and down his neck, biting gently underneath his jawbone, about to suck another bruise into his slender throat. Even squirmed at the sensation. There’d be hell to pay tomorrow from Sonja once she saw Isak’s hard work, but right now he couldn’t have given a flying fuck. “Take off your shirt, baby. I want to see you.”

“Really?” Isak’s voice was blurred but happy. “I was worried I was going too fast.”

“Take it off slowly,” Even muttered, having great difficulty speaking coherent sentences. “Get naked for me, baby.”

Isak smiled his baby devil’s smile, rocking up onto his heels and swaying his ass gently right over Even’s blunted dick. “Watch me.”

Jesus fucking Christ Isak was really _something else_ , thought Even blurrily, he knew how to pull a man to absolute breaking point and keep him there, desperate and quivering. He really didn’t need Isak to take his time unbuttoning his shirt, stroking one finger teasingly down the side of Even’s crotch to make Even rut desperately up against him.

He really didn’t _need_ Isak to edge himself out of his jeans inch by inch, pulling them slowly, _so slowly_ down his hips so that Even gasped and nutted at the sight of every small bit of bare flesh that appeared. Isak was the master of the slow strip and he had Even firmly under his thumb, swaying his ass over him as he pulled down his boxers, but not letting him touch him even when he was entirely naked, slender thighs parted each side of Even’s pulsing crotch. His pulse rate accelerated as he took in the sight of Isak; he kept his snapback on and nothing else, circling his hips over Even’s in a rhythmic movement, back arched, red lips open and teasing.

“I’m gonna come in my pants if you keep doing that, baby,” Even confessed gruffly, and Isak laughed. “Can’t have that, can we? I’m going to keep you going as long as I can.”

Isak’s hands moved to unbutton him, but Even stopped him, his arousal suddenly dropping. He sat up, holding Isak’s hands in his. He was suddenly afraid of Isak going _there_ , seeing the ugly wound that lay coiled, red and angry, across his hip.

“What’s wrong?” asked Isak, concerned, and Even shook his head.

“It’s … a scar. From an accident.”

Isak kissed at his stomach. “You don’t need to be ashamed. You’re beautiful.”

Even shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s … complicated.”

Isak smiled gently, sensing Even’s shift in mood. “Hey, where did you go? I won’t take them off if you don’t want me to.”

“I’m sorry,” confessed Even. “I know it’s stupid. I want to, but I’m scared.”

“Stay with me,” whispered Isak, holding him tightly. “Stay with me. I’m right here.”

Even wrapped his arms around Isak, burying his head in his shoulder, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“We can stop if it’s all too much,” whispered Isak in his ear. “We can stop any time you want.”

Even didn’t want.

 

However, he really didn’t _need_ Isak to work his fingers under his jeans and unzip him like that, or lick his tongue in sweeping circles, probing wetly and wantonly deep into his belly button. He really didn’t need Isak to mouth up and down the length of his hard cock shrouded under his underwear, or take his sweet fucking time rolling down the waistband of his boxers to lick at the imprint that the elastic had left on his skin. It felt an eternity until Isak finally pulled down his underwear just enough to let his dick spring free to smack against his cheek.

“Oh fuck,” gasped Even at the sight of Isak looking like _that_ with his cock smushed against his lips, as the boy stroked up and down his length, experimenting with the weight and width and discovering which places made Even moan loudest. He rolled it against the inside of his thighs, stroking him up and down lightly, inching ever upwards until Even was maddened with desire.

Warm and wet with lube, Even felt the head of his cock slide up and down in the groove between Isak’s legs, wanting and seeking him; Isak teasing for a while between shy and slutty, first bearing down then pulling away, until Even was a mess underneath him. Finally, as the pressure in his balls reached unbearable intensity, he suddenly felt a rush of sensation; Isak’s tightness was yielding against him, slowly opening its warmth to the head of his cock, squeezing around it until he was enveloped in something so hot and wet that it made him cry out quietly. _I’m inside you_ , he thought wildly, _I’m inside you, oh my God, Isak, you’re everything I ever needed._

“Baby let me in,” he groaned, heart pumping. “That’s it, baby,” as Isak, back arched, began to rock himself slowly up and down. Even had never seen or felt anything so mind-blowing as this boy in his whole life.

 _Fuck, I mustn’t come yet_. He cast around wildly of anything that would slow down his headlong rush – _I’m gonna come, I can’t come_ – but all he could think of to distract himself was _that_ night, the bad night when everything went _wrong_ , and he started to shrivel.

Isak reached down and touched his face. “Hey. You’ve gone again. Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Even groaned and lay back. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Is it Sonja?” Isak swung himself off him until he was lying at his side, face all concerned, and Even laughed faintly. _Sonja_ – he had even forgotten she’d _existed_ for the last half an hour – and he wanted to step back into that time again, into Isak again, into that place where his brain wasn’t thinking and remembering so much –

“Want to talk about it?” asked Isak, running his fingertips ever so lightly through Even’s hair.

Even did want.

 

He didn’t remember things too fluidly – his brain jumped around a lot when he got like this – but as far as he knew he’d been in the car – it had been some time after nine – and he’d just got that assistant director’s job, that’s right, for a big art studio – so he’d been on his way to celebrate with friends, and the traffic on the Kirkeverein intersection was so heavy, and he was going to be late –

Sonja had been in the passenger seat, and they’d been arguing, he couldn’t remember why, and he’d been pissed at her, _really_ pissed, the kind of nasty, bitchy, _hurtful_ pissed that happened when he got in that mood; so they’d been screaming at each other, and the traffic jam had just been the _end_. And although the road signs all warned him of the dangers – he never read signs when he got like this, because signs were rules and who the fuck followed _rules_ – he was angrily swinging the steering wheel so that he pulled out into the clear space in the approaching lane of the Kirkeverein to try and avoid the jam and cut up the corner into Hammerstads Gate.

Only it wasn’t a clear space. It was a space that was occupied by a car that was travelling fast, the traffic lights were against it but it had soared straight through; he knew it had jumped the red stop signal and it shouldn’t even have _been_ there, but it _was_ there, and all the white light exploded around him as the windscreen shattered and Sonja screamed and the noise of the car horn of the oncoming vehicle blared out on and on –

And there had been this awful muffled sound in his ears and Sonja had been shouting at him, _Drive, drive_ , and he knew he shouldn’t but some part of him was just grateful that _someone_ seemed to know what to do, and all of a sudden he was hitting the accelerator and skidding off up Hammerstads Gate leaving the smoking car shattered behind him and their own windscreen shot to absolute hell –

And then it all went black for a bit but somehow they were suddenly back at Sonja’s, and there was blood down his leg from where a slice of glass had jammed into his hip, and she was talking at him, her mouth going soundlessly up and down and he didn’t understand anything apart from _they ran the red light_ and _it wasn’t your fault_ , but even that didn’t really connect or take away from the voices screaming in his head that –

 

He realised that Isak was still lying there waiting for him to speak.

“I … I did something bad,” he confessed, and Isak did nothing but nod, wide-eyed and accepting, waiting for him to continue.

“A few months ago. I did something really bad – and – ” _I wanted to die_ , he wanted to say, but somehow he couldn’t, seeing Isak lying there all open and reaching and understanding. _Ugh,_ he was so selfish and unworthy. There was just _no way_ he could tell Isak the truth.

_God I’m such a fucking loser._

“And I can’t get over it, and I feel like I’m losing my mind sometimes, but there’s nothing I can do, and every time – every time I do _this_ – I see the scar and it, it just reminds me of – ”

Even hated crying in front of people but this was different; everything seemed different with Isak. Isak held him and shushed him and covered his face with kisses, and Even just lay there and was held and everything was just as awful as before, but somehow it seemed more bearable.

“It’s okay,” whispered Isak, rubbing his nose against him with another of the eskimo kisses. “Just take it minute by minute. It’s all going to be okay.”

Even knew that it would _never_ be okay.

 

Later that night, Isak lay on his back, arms outflung in sleep as if he had been thrown there by the force of the orgasm that Even had given him, his soft breathing warming the darkened room.

At first Isak had protested and tried to stop him, tried to insist that they didn’t _need_ to do anything, they could just lie there and cuddle, but Even had been determined. He wanted to give his boy at least half as good a time as he’d just had, so he’d pulled out all the stops, teasing him as badly as Isak had teased him earlier, making sure that he was tearfully begging for it by the time Even took him in his mouth and swallowed him down.

Even was good at giving both men and women head – it had been his saving grace with Sonja since he’d been unable to perform after the crash – and he still liked to remember his first boyfriend groaning _fuck your mouth was made for this_ \- so he’d mastered all his tricks to reduce Isak to a sobbing mess until he was pulling painfully on his hair and gasping _Even, Even, Even_.

It was the first time in months that anyone had called his name like that and Even hadn’t felt like running away.

He rolled on his side and watched Isak drowsing. _God he’s so fine, he thought, so fine and so beautiful and so strong. I don’t deserve him, I really really don’t._

He couldn’t sleep – he hadn’t slept much recently – and he was restless as hell. On an impulse he picked up a pen and paper and drew a quick cartoon sketch of Isak sprawled, captioning it _You look hot when you sleep._ He doodled for a while, filling the frame with roses and scowling angels and a picture of Evelyn as a cherub carrying a bow and arrow, which entertained him for a while, until he threw the pen aside.

Although he disliked the idea of digging around Isak’s apartment when he was asleep, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He wandered naked around the darkened living room and looked at the various photographs of Evelyn, he found Isak’s stash and considered rolling himself a blunt before checking himself fiercely; _stop it, Even!_ He made some toast in the kitchen although after one bite he couldn’t manage any more, and cleaned up some of Evelyn’s baby bottles because Isak had been too tired after the studio.

His phone battery had died and Isak’s laptop was on the table so he thought he’d just check his messages and google a few things, but the password was on lockscreen and he didn’t want to wake Isak up to ask him what it was. But as he sat there, fidgeting, the screensaver activated with a photo of Isak carrying Evelyn, and charmed, Even leaned forward to look.

She looked younger there, about three months old he’d say, and Isak – Isak looked stunned and black-eyed and dishevelled as if he had been hit by a truck. Even remembered that look on his sister’s face a few weeks in to having twins, the _what-the-fuck-have-I-done_ look. God, he was so _brave_. The picture faded and another one came up; a boy of Isak’s age with thick curly dark hair and dark eyebrows. He was holding his middle finger up at the camera, and Isak had captioned it, _Jonas’s Law_.

So that was the guy in prison. Even smiled. He looked like a good friend.

A few more photos came up on auto, a whole sequence of Isak-and-pals-at-school, where Isak had shorter hair and a bigger smile and looked younger, and Even just sat there, chin propped on his hands and let them swim past, drinking in how his boy had looked in another world before he’d met him, before he even knew he existed.

It was strangely peaceful, watching the timeline of Isak laughing in cafes and posing in football team kit (really? _Isak?_ he’d have to ask him about that because being fucked by a football player was one of his biggest nuts) and there were a couple of other, more recent photos that made him tighten his lips and fold his arms because he was pretty sure by the way Isak was looking at another guy that something was going on between them –

And then there was one that made him stiffen in his chair and lean forward, his breath coming out from between his lips in a strangled hiss.

It was like looking into a mirror. His own face stared back out at him from above a check shirt that was very similar to the ones he sometimes wore -  a laughing smile and large blue eyes and floppy short blond hair.

Only _this_ person had her arm around a smaller, petite brunette, and Isak was caught in the background looking blurry and uncomfortable.

 _Holy shit_ , thought Even incredulously. _We really did look alike. We could almost have been twins._

The photo faded, and the original picture of Evelyn filled the screen again. She looked just like him. Her. Them.

So that was Isak’s baby mother. Well, he had good taste if nothing else.

Even’s curiosity was pricked, though, he couldn’t help it. When he’d asked why Evelyn’s mother wasn’t around and Isak had said _they’re both dead_ , he had been shocked – he’d fully been expecting to hear that they were too young, or they hadn’t known what they were taking on – but _dead_?

On the shelf stood a row of yearbooks and he stood up and thumbed through a few of them. He didn’t find a girl named Even, but he did find a picture of the petite brunette from the same photo. _Emma Larzen_ it read. She grinned brightly from the photo, all eyes and cheekbones and slightly protruding teeth. Pretty girl though.

 _My ex-girlfriend’s girlfriend_.

So that was the girl that Isak had used to date? He understood why.

But how had they died? Now wide awake, he searched through the rest of the shelves, and found Evelyn’s birth certificate, with parents listed as Isak Valtersen, 18 and Even Tornfelt, 23. There were a few personal letters which he didn’t read – he wasn’t a _complete_ stalker for fuck’s sake – but there was a small file at the end of the shelf which contained a few newspaper clippings.

He was about to close the file and replace it as irrelevant, when a name suddenly shot up at him from the page.

Even Tornfelt.

He sat down with a bump. A scatter of words, not making any sense, floated in front of his eyes.

Obituary –

dangerous driving –

pronounced dead on the scene with –

on Kirkeverein corner of Hammerstad gate.

He felt suddenly very, very cold.

 _I don’t want to read this_ , he thought, holding the file with a shaking hand. _But I’m going to._

 

He read for what seemed like hours, going over the articles over and over again, until they were imprinted on his memory. He read until he felt physically sick, until the room grew freezing around him, until he couldn’t bear the sensation of being inside his own body any more. The dates matched up. The location matched up. Everything matched up.

_Oh God, I’m a murderer, and I murdered –_

He couldn’t think. Quickly he got up and grabbed his clothes, dressing himself in haste and trying to restrain the horrible, gasping sobs rising up inside his chest. Evelyn’s soft baby murmur came from the other room – she was awake in one of those lucid baby dreams – and at first he battled with just leaving there and then, but love won out and he slipped through the door to see her holding the bars of her cot and trampolining up and down. She saw him come in and raised her arms to be held, and he picked her up, the whole solid weight of her reminding him of Isak, she was half Isak after all, and half –

“I’m sorry, Evelyn,” he whispered, choking, and Evelyn sent him back a huge baby gurgle of delight and tried to pat his face with her hand. He soothed her with a warmed bottle and left her, staring up at him as he left.

He couldn’t face looking into Isak’s room before he went, so he collected all of his scattered clothes that he could find – he was pretty sure his missing sock was somewhere in the bed somewhere – and let himself quietly out of the back door.

“Goodbye Isak,” he breathed as he felt the cold early-morning air around him and started to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... moral of the story is don't judge a book by its cover! plenty of people look like they have it all together but they're a mess inside - don't compare yourself unfavourably to others! 
> 
> hopefully will bring the sequel chapter SOON!


	5. The River Flows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonja has a showdown with Even, and Even starts to track down his doppelganger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In June 2017, plans were announced for a “feminist mosque” in Oslo where female worshippers would have equal involvement as representatives and imams, and it would be open and welcoming to LGBT people from all backgrounds. I don’t know whether it’s going to happen for sure or not - but in THIS verse it definitely has … hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, I don't think there is a public early-morning call to prayer in Norway - I read that one mosque has permission to do it once a day - but let's just say this new one does ...

It was his fault; all his fault.

It was almost dawn by the time Even got back to the house. He’d been walking frantically up and down for almost two hours, trying to clear his head, but all he could hear was the sound of a thousand thoughts screaming at him.

He knew he _shouldn’t_ listen to them, because if he listened too closely they’d tell him to do things that weren’t good for him – but when all you had was your brain, then not trusting your own thoughts made you feel lonely and disconnected as absolute _fuck_. That’s what people without a mental condition never understood. If you couldn’t trust yourself, then who could you trust?

Unable to bear it, he’d found his way to Grønland, bargained with an aggressive, edgy dealer by the river for a few uncomfortable minutes, and ended up with five grams of low-quality hash. He’d smoked a good few joints which had shut his thoughts off a bit, but had done nothing to alleviate his pounding heart. Finally, when he was too tired and numbed from the cold to bear it any longer, he made it back – he couldn’t say home – and listened cautiously outside the door before letting himself in.

The hall was in darkness, and he quietly plugged in his phone and took off his jacket, illuminated by the quiet glow of the blue screen. He’d just made it to the kitchen hoping that Sonja was asleep – when there was a footstep in the corridor and the electric light was switched on blindingly bright.

“Oh my God, Even?” whispered Sonja, appearing behind him. She was still wearing the clothes of the day before, and she didn’t look like she’d been to bed; her eyeshadow was smudged underneath her eyes in dark shadows and her hair was tangled. Even felt a prick of remorse, stoned though he was – Sonja always looked well groomed, and now she looked –

“I’ve been up all night waiting for you!” she said with a sob, and guiltily Even saw tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t sleep for worrying where you were.”

Even leaned heavily against the sink. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, looking at the floor. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I always care!” Sonja came towards him and touched his arm. Even had to resist the feeling of jerking away from her caress – it wasn’t her fault, after all – but the non-stoned part of him felt sick, so _sick_ at seeing her that he almost couldn’t bear it.

“I’m sorry. I was such a bitch. I was just tired and stressed from my shitty job, that’s all. You know I love you, right?”

Every word she said sank straight into Even like a blow; but a blow cushioned by the copious amount of hash he’d just smoked – he’d feel the pain of every single dart later – but right now trying to deal with Sonja was like wading through water.

“Don’t – don’t,” was all he could say, flinching, and Sonja drew back, concerned. “What? What’s wrong, Even?”

Too many things were wrong right now, and Even couldn’t put them into words, so he went on the attack. “I’m fucking falling apart, Sonja. I can’t sleep, I can’t think about anything else than _that night_ , you understand? I know you said _don’t think about it_ , but that’s all I do.”

Sonja gazed at him. “Babe? Are you stoned again? You know that’s not good for you, right?”

Even felt like a man about to jump on a moving train; he knew that if he stopped to think about it he’d never say what he wanted to. “I don’t know how you can just – _carry on_. Like nothing ever happened. Are you made of stone or something?”

“Babe, if you go to the police, you know what will happen,” warned Sonja, her voice low and calm as if speaking to a child. “Don’t be stupid, Even. It wasn’t your fault. There’s no reason that you should get locked up for an accident that’s months ago now.”

Even pummelled his forehead with his fists. “It was my _fault_ , Sonja. We hit them, I know we did. Two people are dead, and they’re dead because of me. How do you think that feels?”

“Have you been reading about it?” Sonja’s hand was on his arm again. “Remember we agreed you’d stay away from the newspapers, it’s not good for you to _dwell_ on it, remember we said – ”

“Yeah I do! We _said_ a lot of things. But it’s not working, Sonja, I’m going crazy here.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Even!” Sonja’s voice was quietly desperate. “It’s not just you that will get in trouble. My mother relies on me earning, babe, I can’t get dragged into this.”

“ _Dragged_ into this? You were the one who told me to drive! And now –”

Even’s tirade was interrupted by a quiet buzz from the hall. His phone had come alive again and a text was flashing on the screen. Even picked it up, his heart sinking. It was horrifically early, but not for a parent; Evelyn had obviously woken Isak up for the first feed of the day.

_Morning. Thought you were the kind of guy who’d stay for breakfast. Thanks for the drawing by the way, very cute._

Even bit his lip, and the sickness inside him began to rise and rise. He’d forgotten all about the drawing he’d left on Isak’s pillow. He deleted the text before he could re-read it, and turned to see Sonja gazing at him, appalled.

“What the hell is _that_?” she stuttered.

He stood paralysed; she was staring at the bruise that Isak had sucked into his neck last night. Instinctively his fingers went to touch it, and he was almost overwhelmed by a sudden sense-memory; Isak above him, lips moving over his skin with a touch so light it burned.

“Who … who were you with last night?”

Even snapped back to the present; Sonja was standing there, looking uncharacteristically lost, like a child whose parents have forgotten to pick her up.

“What _happened_ , Even?”

Even covered his face with his hands. “Sonja, let’s not do this now. Please, I can’t.”

His thoughts were going too fast again. The previous night had split into two parts; the beautiful first act with Isak, and then the vicious denouement worthy of a Jacobean tragedy. Now even remembering the bliss of holding his boy in his arms made him shudder with horror. He couldn’t look Sonja in the face.

It was all my fault.  

The phone buzzed again. _PS. You left one of your socks and Evelyn’s playing sock dragon with it_

Suddenly animated, Sonja grabbed at the phone. “Who is she?” She caught the micro-expression flashing across Even’s face. “ _He,_ then? Did you pick him up too when you got your weed?”

Even snatched it away. “Get off my phone! Get off!”

They fumbled angrily with each other for mastery of the phone, before it shot out of Even’s shaking hand and smashed against the wooden floor. He picked it up but the darkened screen was completely shot.

“Now look what you’ve done!” he screamed, although even as he did so he knew that it was an excuse, a reason to channel all his bitterness and aggression into physical form. “You stupid bitch! You always ruin everything!”

Sonja flinched and drew back, a tear staining her cheek. “Stop that. You don’t have to be so mean.”

“You’re always trying to control me!” cried Even. “Do this, do that, say this, don’t say that. I’m sick of it, hear me! I’m sick of it!”

“And fucking some guy is the answer, is it? How do you think that makes me feel? Did you get over your little problem? Or is it just _me_ you can’t get it up for? Are you done with girls, then, are you – ”

Even abruptly turned away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sonja paced up and down, rubbing at her arms. “Who is he? Do I know him?”

“No,” snapped Even truthfully. “And it was a mistake, okay? It was a fucking _mistake_.”

“Where are you going?” shouted Sonja, but Even had already jammed his shoes back on and was ripping his coat from the hook. “Hang on! _You’re_ the one who’s cheated and you’re walking _out_?”

The door slammed behind him, and Even barely made it down the drive to the road before he was suddenly and violently sick.

 

***

 

Slumped on a park bench, he came to, shivering in the early morning wind. He had no idea of how he had got there, or how long he had been there, only that he was frozen to the bone. Thoughts of Isak came trickling back through his confusion, and he didn’t have the strength to push them away.

_Thought you were the kind of guy who’d stay for breakfast._

Behind the light banter, Even could sense Isak’s anxiety; _did I come on too strong, is Evelyn too much baggage, has he gone back to his girlfriend._ He hated the thought of Isak waking up and finding him gone, agonising over which words to use, worrying about sending that text, of waiting for an answer that wouldn’t come.

 _No, no_ , he thought to himself. _It’s nothing you’ve done, Isak – you’re perfect._

Isak’s words at their first meal together came back to him. _Who’d wanna date me now? It’s all screams and shitty nappies._

Ugh, stop. It isn’t you, it’s all me.

He stood up, walked to the bridge, and gazed down. The Akerselva flowed beneath him, grey in the dawn light. Here it was relatively shallow, but down by the industrial parks he knew of wells that were three hundred metres deep.

_I’m so worthless. He’s better off without me. Everyone is better off without me._

It would be so easy, he thought, just one jump and it could all be over. The coldness and the depth chill would do its work if he –

A squeak from behind him made him turn; a tired-looking woman was pushing a baby on a buggy, the early-morning exercise for small folk who didn’t realise that just because it was daylight didn’t mean you were supposed to get up. It had always seemed strange to Even why people spent so much money on lighting their homes deep into the night and yet drew their curtains to sleep longer in the morning. Humans had evolved to live within the rhythms of the world, but they constantly seemed to be fighting against it.

As the baby was wheeled off, squealing the tired cry of an infant overdue for sleep, an image of Evelyn rose before him. Even felt a strange longing to pick her up, dance her on his knee, take her to the park and feel her sticky paw in his.

 _Baby?_ whispered Isak teasingly into his ear. _We’re at that stage already?_

He looked back down at the river as silence fell around him, listening to the roar and rush of its invitation.

_Isak won’t forgive me. No one can forgive me for this. Not even myself._

Above him, the air suddenly buzzed and hummed, as if the universe was vibrating around him like a tuning-fork plucking a note. He looked up, startled, and in the dawn light heard a soft voice proclaiming the first _azan_ of the morning from the nearby mosque.

_Allahu akbar! Allaahu akbar!_

Even hesitated. _Not even God will forgive me for this one_ , he thought miserably.

But his attention had been caught, and despite himself, he lingered, caught momentarily between heaven and earth with the beauty of the call to prayer. He listened until the call to Fajr had finished, before he looked back down at the chilly waters beneath.

No.

At least, not yet.

He moved back from the river’s edge and started to walk fast in the opposite direction.

 

***

 

He couldn’t help himself, it was like picking at a sore; once you reached a certain level of pain, a little more made no difference. When the first internet café opened at nine, he was waiting outside, and although the last thing he felt like was food, he made himself order a coffee and an open cheese sandwich. As he paid, the well-groomed male assistant behind the counter smiled pertly at him.

“Back already?”

“Sorry?” said Even, half-listening as he juggled sloppy coffee and tried not to spill it over his keyboard.

“Back already? You were in here all morning yesterday.”

“Huh?” Even glanced up distracted. “Um, no you must have me confused with someone else,” he said stiffly – uncomfortably triggered by a sudden memory of Isak astride him yesterday evening – and turned his attention back to the screen.

He rubbed his eyes to dispel the image, mustered his courage, logged into Facebook and re-activated his account.

 _3,000+ notifications_ , read the little white letters, and instantly across his screen flowed unread friendship requests, posts tagging him, photographs and all the millions of stories that went to make up a hidden life. Out of reflex he started to read them and almost hit the like button on one story posted by Elias showing the guys throwing water over each other in a bathroom, before he stopped himself. _No_ , Even.

Taking a deep breath, he tapped Even Tornfelt into the search bar but even before he’d finished typing, it signalled no matching names. He stopped and frowned; it didn’t mean anything though, she might have been on private.

Deciding to hit return anyway to find any content containing the word match, and was unprepared for the amount of posts and photographs that flashed up containing _Even Tornfelt_ minus the tag. Even’s laughing face stared out of the screen at him from old school posts, university photographs, Facebook groups and the occasional news article.

 _Fuck_ , he thought. We’re so alike. She really _could_ be my sister.

He gritted his teeth as he scrolled through, some posts relatively recent, others randomly selected from the past by the complex and inexplicable algorithms of Facebook.

_Welcome to the world, Evelyn!_

_RIP Even Tornfelt, the sweetest –_

_Cutest couple ever!_

_Even Tornfelt wins Tromso female long-distance championship –_

Even frowned. _Tromso?_

He clicked through some of the posts, trying to make sense of it all. Searching from earliest to most recent, from what he could make out, she’d moved to Oslo from Tromso a couple of years ago, and gotten a job at a local firm. There wasn’t much online from before that time apart from the newspaper article from Tromso; Even had undeniably had a Facebook account at the time, but it was deactivated, as was an account named Emmy LarZen, presumably Isak’s ex-girlfriend, which had been co-tagged in a number of statuses.

So where had she met Isak?

He scrolled through a few more, before he stopped abruptly.

_Chilling at home – with Even Tornfelt, Thea Vasquez and Jonas Vasquez._

Even leant forward. _Jonas Vasquez?_

The timer on the screen sounded five minutes left, and the café assistant waved at him. “Will you be needing any more time?

He glanced up. “Uh, no thanks, I’m done.”

“See you again!” the assistant’s bright voice followed him out, but Even was so tired and preoccupied he barely heard him. “Same time tomorrow?”

 

***

 

A stream of children issued from the mosque as Even arrived, and he stood back to let them pass, watching them laughing and swatting each other with their bags, scurrying up the pavement and screaming to each other. Something about their carefree attitude made him feel wistful and lonely at the same time. It seemed a long time since he felt so light, so _unbothered_ by everything – since fourteen he’d been at the mercy of his racing or sluggish thoughts – and perhaps that’s why he liked being around children, they brought back some of the snap and happiness that he remembered from his very early childhood, dimly, like looking at an old photograph.

Stepping into the mosque was like descending into cool water. The blue glow of the ceramic tiles along the walls encompassed him like a shady pool, and gave him momentarily the peace that he sought. Closing his eyes he breathed deeply and tried to regulate his pounding heart.

He left his shoes on the rack by the door and walked across the soft patterned carpet of the _musalla_ , gazing up at the looping and swirling Arabic calligraphy wheeling around the domed ceiling like swallows in flight. Even couldn’t read what was written there, but he knew that they were the _asmāʾu llāhi l-ḥusnā_ – the ninety-nine beautiful names of God.

Not for the first time, Even felt the sense of relief that mosques were so different to the churches his parents used to drag him to as a child. No bleeding statues here, no crosses, snarling demons or writhing saints; not even any faces or eyes or stuff to _look_ at you or judge you. Here you could forget all the torments of the body and contemplate instead the pure beauty of intricate design, mathematics and art. Elaborate vegetal forms that represented the proliferation of all growing things, geometric patterns that held the secrets of the planets in their equations, ornamented calligraphy that threaded the word of Allah through the vastness of His creation; a jewelled net flung over infinity to give the believer a small glimpse of the divine.

“As-salāmu aleikum!” greeted a voice behind him, and Even turned with reflex promptness. “Mikael,” he murmured, spreading his arms wide, and his old friend wrapped him in a bear hug. “W’aleikum a-salām.”

“I’ll make an Arabic scholar of you yet,” promised Mikael delightedly, drawing him off to the courtyard at the back of the mosque where the kitchen was situated. “Good timing for a visit by the way. I’ve just got rid of one tajweed class and we’ve time for a chai before Mahgrib.”

Even sat on the chair of the small, white-painted kitchen, looking at the various notices on the pinboard – _Arabic for beginners on Tuesday! Refugee fundraiser on Saturday! Iftar and Suhur approved venues!_

The mosque itself was a new build in Oslo – a liberal mosque with female imams and open to LGBT people of all backgrounds. A few inspirational quotes had been printed out to pin on the walls, including one from Jamilla, the imam:

_If anybody uses religion as an excuse for hate: DON’T LISTEN!_

Mikael handed him a steaming cup, and he sipped at it gingerly; the heat and sweetness making his head swim. It was flavoured with milk and cardamom, like Mikael’s mom used to when they hung out as teenagers, and for a moment it felt like they were sitting back in Mrs Boukhal’s old kitchen, and that all the horridness of the past few years had never happened.

“So what’s up?” quipped Mikael, perching on the chair next to Even. “You’re not on Facebook anymore? How do you expect us to still be friends these days?”

“Yeah,” muttered Even with a wry smile; at Sonja’s suggestion he’d closed all his socials after _that_ happened. His friend caught the look on his face. “What? Even! Are you okay?”

Even sighed. It all seemed too complicated, too big to put into words, so he went straight for the most straightforward part of the puzzle. “I’ve – I’ve broken up with Sonja.”

Mikael blew his cheeks out. “Ah. That’s rough. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Even fidgeted uncomfortably. “Um. Well. I’ve – I’ve kind of met someone. A guy,” he clarified.

Mikael almost successfully repressed the delighted grin that threatened to transform his whole face.

“I _knew_ it. I knew it would happen one day.”

“You’re not shocked?” asked Even, surprised.

Mikael spat tea. “Shocked? Why would I be shocked? You told me you slept with Yousef back in school, after all, have you forgotten that?”

Even breathed out; actually, he _had_ , it was one of the times he’d been so high that he literally didn’t remember much about it. “No. But, hooking up with someone is different to … wanting to _be_ with them.”

“True enough,” nodded Mikael, stirring his cup. “So, you like this guy that much, huh?”

Even groaned and covered his face. “I do. But – ”

Mikael raised an eyebrow. “There’s always a but,” he said. “What is it this time?”

After a while, in which Even didn’t – _couldn’t_ – speak, he placed his cup down and put his arm round him. “Come on. Spit it out. It can’t be that bad, whatever it is.”

“It is. I did something bad. Really bad. To _him_ , but he doesn’t know it. And,” – he couldn’t stop the tears coming down his face now – “if I tell him he’ll hate me, and if I tell anyone else, I could – I could go to jail.”

“Wow.” Mikael really was startled now. “Are you in some kind of trouble, Even? Is that why you disappeared for a few months?”

Even nodded, face pressed into his hands. God he was such a _cry-baby_ these days, such a fucking _loser_. Isak was better off without him, he really, really was.

Mikael got up quickly and closed the door of the kitchen. “I’m sure it’ll be okay in the end,” he said uncomfortably. “But if it’s eating you up like this, then it’s probably best you come clean.”

“She told me not to,” muttered Even, unable to look his friend in the face. “She said we could both go to prison. I can’t do that to her, Mik.”

“Who? Sonja?” Mikael folded his arms and his eyes grew dark. “Sounds like a good idea that you’re breaking up, then. Anyone who tries to control you like that isn’t worth it.”

Even groaned. “I wanted to break up with her when it first happened. But then, afterwards, it felt like we were in this _secret_ , together, and it was us against the world. I had no one to go to.”

His friend snorted. “You could always have come to me. Or Yousef, even, though I know he was a bit broken up after you started ghosting him.”

“I didn’t _ghost_ him,” said Even, stung. “But I never said I would date him, did I?”

“Okay, okay,” said Mikael quickly. “I just meant, I know you guys aren’t exactly close any more, but there was Elias and Mutta and Adam and everyone too, we’re still your friends.”

 _I know_ , thought Even, but the problem with having a broken brain is that it tells you that your friends _aren’t_ your friends any more, that you don’t deserve them, that you aren’t worth it. And because you can’t trust your thoughts, you don’t know _what’s_ real and what’s not. That’s what normal people never understand.

“It’s just all – a bit crazy,” he said tiredly. “I’m not even sure you’ll believe it.”

Mikael glanced at the clock. “Well we’ve got an hour. Try me.”

 

***

 

“Wow,” said Mikael reflectively, when Even had done talking. “That’s really – quite a story.”

Even nodded. “I knew you’d say that. Mik, do you – do you think I’m slipping? Do you think I’m having an episode or something?”

“Well let’s take it bit by bit.” Mikael finished the last of his tea. “Firstly, your involvement in the car crash. You’re absolutely sure that this is the car you hit?”

Even sighed. “Well, the location and dates fit. And I definitely hit something. I felt it.”

“What did the reportage say about your car?” asked Mikael. “You mentioned dangerous driving, but was there any call-out for witnesses for the car that hit theirs?”

Even considered. “No, no there wasn’t. It just said – ” he strained to remember – “an accident caused by dangerous driving. That was what was in the file. It was an early report so, I don’t know, I guess there might be others, but Sonja told me not to read the newspapers, so I – ”

Mikael’s expression indicated exactly what he thought of this advice. “Okay, so you’re not actively being sought. So let’s put aside the question of whether you should turn yourself in or not for the moment, shall we. It’s your conscience that’s giving you this pain, then?”

“Yes,” confessed Even humbly.

“So it’s forgiveness you’re seeking, I guess,” said Mikael gently.

“But he’ll never forgive me,” said Even, his voice breaking. “I ruined his – I ruined Evelyn’s life – I ruined so many people’s lives.”

“How will you know unless you talk to him?” said Mikael. “Forgiveness is essential to humans, all our holy texts speak of it, whether you’re a Muslim or a Christian or a Jew. Sure, he might be upset and angry, but if he likes you back as much as you like him, why wouldn’t he forgive?”

Even groaned. “But _forgiving_ me isn’t going to bring her back,” he said bitterly.

Mikael took his hand. “Forgiveness is only part of restitution. The Quran says after true repentance that you should do everything you can to restore the rights of the person you’ve wronged, not run away from your mistakes. You can help relieve the burden on – what’s his name, Isak? – can’t you? You said he seemed to be struggling a bit, so why are you now walking out and abandoning him and the child without explanation? Don’t you think that will be worse for him than hearing what you’ve got to say?”

Even shook his head. “I guess not. But he’s going to think I’m crazy. _I_ think I’m crazy.”

His friend punched his shoulder. “You’re not crazy, Even. You’re a bit hyper and you need to keep on top of your sleep, but I’ve seen you much worse, believe me.”

“Okay. But – the looking alike thing? Don’t you think that’s – weird?”

Mikael shrugged. “In a world of seven billion people, you don’t think that at least _two_ of them won’t look alike? You white people all look the same, anyway. Unless there’s a long-lost sister out there that you never knew about.”

Mikael grinned teasingly and Even forced a smile. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

Voices sounded outside in a low murmur; worshippers were arriving for Mahgrib. “You have to do what you can to put it right, Even,” said Mikael, getting up and opening the door. “Stay safe, and look after yourself and your boy, okay?”

Even nodded as they embraced. “Thanks Mik.”

Jamilla Bikarim, the imam of the mosque, suddenly put her head round the door. Even knew her as Elias’s cousin, and although they’d not talked much they’d always got on swimmingly. She lit up when she saw him.

“Even! So glad to see you! Are you staying for prayers?”

Even fidgeted. “I wish I could, but – ” he made a vague gesture with his hands to imply something urgent, and Jamilla nodded with one of her wide, beautiful smiles.

“Well, you’re always welcome, any time. I’m glad you were able to come in today. I’ve often seen you outside, and hoped you would pop in to say hello one day.”

“But I haven’t – ” began Even, but at that moment another teacher came in and started talking urgently about a schedule clash, and their attention was diverted from him. He pulled on his jacket and slipped out discreetly, as the mosque filled up.

What was Jamilla talking about? Hanging around outside the mosque? He hadn’t been near here for the longest time.

As he put on his shoes, he heard Jamilla reading the opening lines of the Quran.

“In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Most Merciful …”

 

***

 

Outside on the street, Even hesitated.

Part of him wanted to go straight back to Isak’s – though the other half still feared Isak’s reaction –  but his brain wouldn’t let him. There was something niggling at the corner of his mind, something that he had worried and suspected since his conversation with Mikael –  

_Unless there’s a long-lost sister out there that you never knew about._

_We’re so alike,_ he’d thought, staring at Even’s Facebook picture. _We could almost have been twins._

What if we were?

Even hadn’t been able to find anything about his double from Tromso, apart from that one newspaper article about the long-distance run – most of the information he had on her was from the past couple of years in Oslo.

He rubbed his forehead with his hand and thought. Isak must have met her through his ex-girlfriend Emma, and Emma had met Even through –

_Chilling at home with Thea and Jonas Vasquez._

Jonas?

How had Jonas met _her_?

***

 

There was a long wait on the restaurant payphone before it connected. “Prison services,” said the voice peremptorily on the other end. “What do you require?”

Even took a deep breath. “I’d like to make an appointment to see Jonas Noah Vasquez please,” he said, crossing his fingers so hard they hurt.

“No, he doesn’t know me. But it’s very, very important.”

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOO I read so much SKAM and EVAK fan fiction once the show ended I just ended up writing some stuff of my own!
> 
> All you fic writers are incredible and thank you for inspiring me!
> 
> This is my first fic so little bit nervous but i enjoyed writing it so much! i was gonna write a straightforward AU of Evak parents based on my friend at my old school that got pregnant but the story took off in all sorts of different ways ... don't worry, there will be a happy ending!
> 
> if you don't know what a doppelganger is, have a little read here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doppelg%C3%A4nger


End file.
